


Find Somebody

by hypercatt



Category: South Park
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Persons, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Party, References to Suicide, Secrets, Somewhat Unreliable Narrator, injuries, kenny deaths, unhealthy drinking habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 107,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23683084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypercatt/pseuds/hypercatt
Summary: Saturday night, worst party of the century. Monday morning, Kyle reported missing.Honestly, Stan's week could've been going better.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 271
Kudos: 283





	1. 16th april, saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uwaaaa this fic is finally here!!! after over a year of planning and working on this owo"""""  
> it's going to be fairly long so please bear with me!! ;;; hopefully it's not too much of a trainwreck haha. . .. .  
> can i really tag this as a style fic......find out i guess >>"  
> the dates in the fic have nothing to do with irl, it just ended up a coincidence that i got into a place to start posting around the same date the fic starts on! i thought it'd be fun haha  
> with all that said, please enjoy!!!
> 
> disclaimer: stan's taste in music does not reflect my own ouo"""""

**april 16th, saturday**

One Queen song was okay, two was tolerable, but three was just the start of a fucking disaster.

Stan stared at the bottom of his cup, slowly twisting it around and watching the last remnants of liquid roll around the curve of the base. These party playlists were always way too predictable. Always the same few songs from ten years ago that nobody else seemed to grow tired of. Tonight was especially taking the piss. If Stan could be bothered to move, he’d just go change it himself, ending of the tyranny of Queen that was crashing this party. Seriously, it should have been enough after Bohemian Rhapsody.

A pair of heels stumbled past him, and Stan pressed himself further against the wall, not lifting his eyes up. It wasn’t going to be anybody he knew, that was for sure. For some reason, it seemed like tonight everyone he’d ever spoken to had just completely disappeared. Even Cartman had managed to evade him so far, and that was pretty impressive, considering the width of him. Instead, Stan had filled his cup to the brim, and stood against the wall of the living room whilst he watched everyone else laugh and have fun.

To be honest, this party was kind of shit.

It was always an omen that if the music was shit, then the rest of the party was going to be shit too. So far, that was showing itself to be pretty true. The alcohol reminded Stan of something he’d use to start a fire, and he was almost reluctant to go back to the kitchen and pour himself more. Though, at this point, it was looking like that was the only option. Either that, or just up and leave the party as a whole. And it was only eleven. Stan didn’t wanna be _that_ lame.

Another burst of loud giggles echoed out from beside him, and Stan lifted his eyes just enough to see a large group of girls crowded in a circle, wearing outfits that were nearly identical, voices too loud even over the beats of I Want To Break Free. Stan had no idea what they were talking about, or more likely _who_ , and didn’t care either. Girls always started stupid rumours about stupid things. It was a new thing every week.

“-have you seen either of them yet?” a voice called out, and a clutter of other too-loud voices clambered in to reply. Stan shifted to the side slightly, trying to avoid getting sucked into the circle that was rapidly spreading closer to him.

“They’re definitely here-“

“Why don’t you check the bedrooms-?“

“No way!”

“Isn’t it too early for that-“

Stan grit his teeth, and finally forced himself away from the group, pushing through the crowds to get to the kitchen. Jesus Christ, if this was how it was going to be all night, he was going to need more than just lighter-fluid shots to make it through.

Navigating the room was hard in the dark, though Stan was still sober enough to see the right amount of people in front of him. With a frown, he tried to push his way past a group of freshmen, but they didn’t seem to notice his insistent shoving. The music was still blasting loud, and Stan had to yell to get himself heard over the all-encompassing voice of Freddie Mercury.

“Hey- can you let me through-!”

“Stan?”

An arm grabbed his shoulder from behind, and Stan swerved, turning away from the freshmen to see whoever it was who wanted him. The relief that he’d finally found someone who knew his name that had hit him in the first second evaporated instantly as he looked around, and saw Kyle staring back at him.

The emptiness of his cup suddenly seemed a lot more apparent.

“Oh, Kyle, uh-“ Stan struggled to speak, both in finding the words and to find a volume that could reach over the music. “Hi?”

“Can I talk to you?” Kyle asked suddenly, and even in the dim light, Stan could see the glint of seriousness in his eyes. “It’s important.”

“Uh- sure?” The complete off-handedness of the situation was catching him off-guard, and he tried to grasp onto any semblance of coherency left in his brain. Apparently, that wasn’t a lot.

“Can we go outside?” Kyle asked, leaning closer to Stan to allow his voice to carry better. “It’s too loud in here.”

“Yeah, uh-“ Stan glanced down to his cup, then back at Kyle. “Just- give me a minute, I’ll meet you out there.”

Kyle paused for just a moment, and Stan tried not to think too much about the look in his eyes. “Okay.”

And then just like that, he was ducking his way back through the crowds, over towards the hallway. Stan couldn’t force himself to move until all traces of Kyle had completely disappeared, lost in the crowds, making his way to wait outside.

Waiting for him. God. Fuck. What the hell? It felt like there was no way any of this could be real. Kyle hadn’t spoken to him in- in, a really long time. Why would he just suddenly...why would he even _be_ at this party?? Stan had no idea. But, then again, he guessed there were a lot of things he didn’t really know about anymore.

...It was definitely time for a top up.

Finally breaking through the crowds and landing himself in the kitchen, Stan was relieved to see that most of the crowds seemed to be concentrated in the other room. A few people (who he still hardly recognised) were chatting quietly near the sink, but that was it. They paid him no mind as he headed towards the drinks, grabbing bottles without checking the labels. Hardly mattered when everything tasted shitty anyway.

As Stan poured the coke into his cup, he found himself distantly wondering about why the hell Kyle would want to talk to him. There was no way he thought Stan was the best person to go to for any kind of advice, so just...why? It felt weird, and filled him with a weird sense of anxiety. The same feeling convinced him to add an extra shot to his drink, just in case. He might need it. He’d definitely need it.

Taking a tentative sip to prepare himself for going back into the crowded hell of the next room, Stan tried to remember how to even talk to Kyle. Remember a way that wouldn’t piss him off, or bring up bad memories, or anything else. It was a lot harder than it should have been.

He was probably going to mess this up. There was just that- feeling. A premonition that things were going to go wrong. Kind of like every other thing at this party. And his life too, pretty much.

It was probably the Queen.

With a final mouthful of what was basically just diluted vodka, Stan headed for the doorway, stepping back into the darkness of the living room. And almost instantly, someone crashed into him, causing that very same diluted vodka to spill itself all down the front of Stan’s shirt.

“Hey, asshole-!” he called after them, but the figure was long gone, merging with the rest of the partygoers who didn’t seem to even notice him standing there. Standing there with fucking _coke and vodka_ all over his t-shirt- “Fuck’s sake-“

Stan tried in vain to pull the shirt back from his skin, shaking it a little to try and rid some of the liquid, but it was already far too late. It was soaking in fast, the dark patch spreading further by the second. Fuck. _Fuck_.

Well, there it was. Hardly thirty seconds after he’d had the thought, and now everything sure was going to shit. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Kyle was waiting for him, but he looked like a dumbass, and probably stank of alcohol too. If he went out like this, there was no doubt that Kyle was going to be seriously pissed off at him.

Stan ducked back into the kitchen as he tried to collect his thoughts, absently looking around for some tissue. Obviously, just like at any party he’d ever been to, the kitchen wipes had disappeared a long time ago, the empty container sitting on the side. Stan sighed, putting a hand to his temple.

He could try to wash it off. After all, he was in the kitchen now, and there was hardly anyone here. But then- he’d have to walk around in a dripping wet shirt all night, and that would definitely make him come across as a weirdo. Kyle would probably think so too. Maybe he’d even think it was sweat. God. No. He couldn’t do that, no way.

So then- maybe he could find another shirt. This was Clyde’s house, so maybe he had some that would fit...? Though, he hadn’t even seen Clyde yet, and they didn’t really talk that much, so. Maybe not him. But someone else, maybe...? Someone could just have a...shirt. Spare shirt. Because everyone carried one of those around with them.

Stan let out a quiet groan, pressing his hand against his head harder. For a moment, the music from the next room lulled, a thankful signal of the song ending, and Stan focused, trying to see if the silence would grant him any better ideas. Then, the heavy bass of Under Pressure started up, and he let out another hard sigh.

Yeah, he was pretty much fucked.

Well, since he was already here, and the night was just getting worse, there was no harm in refilling his cup again. Not like it could get any worse for his shirt. All someone needed to do was spill it on his pants, and he could successfully throw himself off a bridge. Actually, maybe he shouldn’t think that. Might be a jinx.

Stan refilled his cup after downing a first, and then turned back to face the other room, mentally trying to urge the alcohol to take effect faster so he could care less about all of this. For now, all he could do was look around for a solution. There had to be people at this party that he knew. Well, other people besides Kyle. Someone had to be able to help him, somehow.

The front room was still too crowded, and the Queen hadn’t yet been cut (seriously, someone needed to change that goddamn playlist), so Stan made way for the hallway instead. It was better lit, and quieter. Mostly filled with kids ducking in and out for a cigarette or a vape, the smell drifting all around the bottom of the stairs. Stan stood, glancing around with growing desperation, and a cold breeze hit him as another person opened the front door, smoke still wafting from their lips. Gross.

He was about to give up and look somewhere else, when he finally spotted a flash of orange down the end of the hallway, three figures gathered by the side of the stairs.

“Kenny!” Stan called out, the relief washing through him stronger than the alcohol. “Dude, there you are.”

“Hey, Stan,” Kenny greeted as Stan made his way to them, stepping over a stray cup left on the floor. “Welcome to the Sad Blonde Boys Corner.”

Kenny spread his arms out, gesturing to Tweek and Butters who were sat on either side of him. Stan slunk down against the opposite wall, folding his legs and taking another sip from his drink.

“Aw jeez, I don’t think I’m that sad right now,” Butters said, fidgeting his hands together. Stan always thought he looked way too young to be at parties like this, even though he was the same age as all the others. Something about the face, and the slightly oversized clothes. Either his parents didn’t know his size, or they just didn’t care.

“What happened to your shirt, dude?” Kenny asked, pointing at him. Stan looked down even though he already knew how bad it looked, frowning again at the reminder. “Don’t tell me you already puked.”

“No, some asshole crashed into me and I spilt it,” he said, scowling. “Everyone here sucks. This party sucks.”

“Yeah, right?” Kenny leaned forwards slightly, something mischievous in his gaze. “This is the kind of party you have before the world ends.”

“Gah, don’t say things like that!!” Tweek piped up, twitching slightly as he shot a look at Kenny. “That’s bad luck, man!”

“I don’t know if the end of the world would be all that bad luck,” Kenny said, snickering to himself, and Stan nodded.

“That’d be a fucking relief,” he said, sighing. “I can’t believe we only have one semester left. I- thought I’d be dead by now, honestly.”

“Yeah, didn’t we all,” Kenny said, shrugging one shoulder with an easy smile, before taking a sip of his drink. Stan risked a glance at the other two, wondering if they cared that he’d crashed their little group. Butters just looked distracted, glancing down at his lap, and Tweek was twitching the same as always. Both of them looked a little... _off_ , somehow, though Stan couldn’t really place how. Like, Tweek had this sullen look in his eyes, like he’d just finished crying, but then, Tweek always looked like that. And Butters was always weird too, so.

“But I need to find a new shirt,” Stan continued after taking a long drink from his cup. “Where the hell am I supposed to find that?”

“Sorry, dude, but you’re not having mine,” Kenny said. “You’re the kind of friend I’d give the shirt off my back to, but not when it’s cold as shit and I have no idea if I’ll get it back.”

“Oh man,” Stan groaned, taking another drink before putting it down and pushing his hands to his face. “I’m so fucked. Seriously. I’m fucked.”

“It’s just a shirt,” Kenny said, shrugging. “I doubt most people are gonna notice anyway.”

“Kyle’s gonna notice.”

Kenny gave him a steady stare, and Stan felt the other two glance towards him. “Kyle?”

“He said- he wanted to talk to me,” Stan admitted, feeling awkward talking about it front of people like Tweek who he hardly knew anymore. “I don’t know why.”

“Are you going to talk to him?” Kenny asked, expression still unchanging.

“Yes?” Stan glanced down at himself. “I don’t know. Can I? My shirt’s fucked, dude. He’s gonna think I’m like...an alcoholic, or some shit.”

“Hmm.”

“Can’t you just, uh, explain?” Butters asked, glancing down when Stan looked at him. “I’m sure Kyle’ll understand it was just an accident!”

“Like he’d believe me,” Stan muttered, shooting a disdainful look towards his drink. He should’ve made it stronger.

“You should talk to him,” Tweek said then, voice softer now in a way Stan didn’t recall ever hearing before. “It’s probably...important, ngh.”

“I mean, I would, but...” Stan groaned, pulling at his shirt again. “Not like this.”

“You’re talking to us,” Kenny pointed out, and Stan frowned.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Stan said. “Because Kyle hates me.”

“Jeez, I dunno if he hates you-“ Butters started.

“He hates me like fuck, and he’s gonna hate me even more now, ‘cause my shirt’s ruined and it’s gonna piss him off and I ruin fucking everything just like I did the first time. God fucking dammit.”

Stan threw the rest of his drink back, starting to grow frustrated that it didn’t seem to be working. Maybe his thoughts were less uniform and he was being more honest than usual, but- he didn’t feel any better. Everything was just starting to feel worse.

“Maybe you should ask Clyde,” Kenny suggested after a few beats had passed, and Stan looked up again.

“You think he’d have something that’d fit me?” Stan frowned at the thought of wearing a poorly fitted shirt, obviously different to the one he’d been wearing before. Fuck, that was almost worse, in a way. Kyle would think he was an alcoholic _and_ a slut. “I haven’t even seen him yet. You know where he is?”

“They’re upstairs,” Tweek muttered, eyes low, voice growing a little tenser. “Or, they were.”

“Maybe I should go ask,” Stan said, already not believing his own words. He really didn’t want Kyle to think he was a slut.

“Sure, dude,” Kenny said, raising his cup a little. “Hope you can find something.”

“Yeah,” Stan said, glancing to his now empty-again cup. “Hey, can I try what you’re drinking?”

“Sure.” Kenny handed him the cup without a complaint, and Stan took it from him, glancing at the clear liquid. He took a mouthful, then shuddered, eyes pressing shut as his throat burned.

“Jesus, dude, what the fuck is in that?!” Stan swallowed to try and wash away the taste, face screwing up. “Might as well be straight fucking bleach.”

“Well, the night’s still young,” Kenny said, grinning as he took the cup back, sagely taking a sip without the slightest of grimaces.

“God, Kenny, what’s wrong with you,” Stan said, shaking his head. Kenny just replied with a peace sign, hand still wrapped around his cup.

“Good luck talking to the others, ngh,” Tweek muttered as Stan stood up.

“Yeah, good luck with Kyle!” Butters said, grinning up at him, almost nervous. Stan just frowned back. Good luck was no way enough for how screwed he was right now.

“Hope you find them,” Kenny added as a final goodbye, and Stan just nodded as he walked away, half-tempted to go back to the kitchen to refill. No, he could wait a few more minutes. He should probably at least _try_ to find Clyde, to tell himself that at least he’d made the effort.

Upstairs was always a dangerous place to be at parties, and Stan didn’t bother with opening any of the closed doors that greeted him once he reached the top. Even if Clyde actually was hiding somewhere within them, it wasn’t worth the risk.

Stan glanced down at his shirt again, leaning back against the wall with a frown. It still looked bad, he could tell that for sure, but maybe...it wouldn’t be that bad if he just went and met Kyle with it like this? It was dark outside anyway, and maybe if he just splashed a little water over it, the alcohol smell wouldn’t be so strong. Maybe he should just pour more coke over it, to hide any smell of alcohol? Like, fight fire with fire or something.

Stan rounded the corner to the bathroom, mostly just to check his reflection and see how bad the damage actually was, before he spotted the large lump over by the door. At once, Cartman turned to him, face sneering up a little.

“Why, Stan, fancy seeing you here,” he said, stepping away from the door. Stan narrowed his eyes. The only reason for Cartman to be up here alone was him snooping around, or trying to destroy Clyde’s bathroom, and neither of those were good things. Enough people had already died in there.

“Fuck off, Cartman,” Stan muttered, tempted to just turn back around and leave. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Of course you’re not,” Cartman said, rolling his eyes. “When are you ever. Gotta say, Stan, I’m surprised you haven’t killed yourself already with the way you go around like a school shooter in the making.”

“Seriously, shut up,” Stan said, breathing out a heavy sigh. Talking to Cartman always seemed to drain his energy, with the sheer effort of having to deal with such a heavy flow of bullshit. The second they interacted he felt like he needed to go sleep off the conversation for at least a couple hours. And shower, too. “I’m surprised anyone even invited you to this party.”

“Of course they did,” Cartman snapped, in a way that let Stan they most certainly didn’t. “Though this party sucks. The alcohol all tastes like piss.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty shitty.”

“Must be if even the town alcoholic is saying so,” Cartman said, sneering at him, and Stan frowned.

“I’m not an alcoholic.”

“Sure, sure,” Cartman said, eyes flickering down to Stan’s shirt. “And Kenny’s not poor, and Kyle’s not a Jew.”

“God, Cartman, can you at least try to be original-“ Stan stopped suddenly, only then seeming to remember that Kyle was still waiting for him. Cartman seemed to notice his reaction, smirking.

“What, you two got a closet make-out planned or something?”

“No-“ Stan shook his head, mind distracted, “Shut up, fatass.”

“Don’t call me fat!” Cartman snapped, then returned to his sneer as quickly as it had left. “Kyle’s being a little pissy bitch anyway. Doubt he’ll let you stick anything up his ass tonight.”

“Fuck off,” Stan said, and finally backed away down the hallway, leaving a conversation he should’ve bailed on from the first second. Talking to Cartman was so pointless. He just repeated the same five insults he’d had since he was a kid, and only existed to piss everyone else off. And now Stan still hadn’t managed to wash his shirt, or find Clyde, or anyone else to lend him one. So.

The drinks he’d had earlier were definitely starting to take effect, as Stan couldn’t even feel that disappointed or panicked as he descended the stairs, heading back to the front room. It didn’t matter as much anymore. Like- everything didn’t. He’d go meet Kyle with his shirt wet, and maybe he’d be pissed, but at least he’d get to find out what Kyle wanted to tell him. The awkwardness Stan had been dreading was fading too. After another drink, he was sure it’d all be fine.

Mostly. For some reason, Queen was _still_ playing, and nobody had turned it off or questioned why they’d even allowed this to go on for so long. Stan didn’t have any problem with the music by itself, but the amount of times he’d heard his dad trying to imitate the style and voice...it would be enough to make anyone sick of it.

Stan made work on heading back to the kitchen, slinking around the groups that had formed since he’d last been in. It felt like it had been hours since he was last here, cup empty for far too long. With nerves fading, Stan trusted himself enough to only need two shots this time.

He gave a look towards the sink, before deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. All he’d end up doing would be making the stain larger, and awkwardly holding himself over the sink in a room full of people. The outside had started to dry by this point, anyway. It was fine. Whatever. Not like he could help it now.

Time to go find Kyle.

Yet again, Stan found himself trying to manoeuvre around the crowds, even if there were slightly less people packed in here than there had been before. Except- he hadn’t even made it to the door when he noticed Kyle, collecting his bag from under the table and pulling it over his shoulder.

“Kyle-!” Stan called out, voice hardly audible above the music. “Kyle, wait!”

“Forget it,” he heard Kyle spit out as he got close enough to hear, and Stan moved after him, frowning.

“I thought you wanted to talk-“

“I _did_ want to talk!” Kyle snapped at him, turning around with an unexpectedly vicious look in his eyes. “Fifteen minutes ago!”

Stan flinched slightly, blinking. “Dude, it’s only been like, two minutes-“

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “It’s like you’re just- incapable of thinking of other people.”

“I- can’t we just talk now?” Stan frowned, the beginnings of nausea starting in his stomach. “I’m here now.”

“No, I said forget it,” Kyle muttered, turning around again as he secured his bag on his shoulder. “You’re clearly too busy getting wasted. I wouldn’t wanna ruin your fun.”

“Aren’t you overreacting?” Stan asked, and regretted the choice in words the instant Kyle flew back around to stare at him, eyes flashing in fury.

“’Overreacting’??” he repeated, taking a step towards Stan. “You think I’m _overreacting_ , that I’m _pissed off_ with you, because you promised to talk to me and then just _fucked_ _off_?”

“I-“

“Like, five fucking minutes,” Kyle said, shaking his head. Stan closed his mouth, suddenly forgetting how to form words. It felt like he was drifting out of the situation, watching from the side-lines, only Kyle’s voice and the music existing as they fought to block each other out. “That was all I would’ve needed, but that was _still_ too much for you.”

_Find me somebody to love._

“It’s because you’re just- _that_ selfish, you know??”

_Find me somebody to love._

“It’s always about yourself. Always about how _you’re_ feeling. Anyone else, and you don’t give a shit.”

_Find me somebody to love._

“I don’t know why I even thought you’d want to talk to me anyway. I don’t know why _I_ thought I’d want to talk to you.”

_Find me somebody to love._

“You’re never going to change.”

_Somebody. Somebody. Somebody. Somebody._

“So just- forget it. I’m not wasting my time on you any longer.”

_Somebody find me- somebody find me somebody to love._

“Whatever you do with your life- I hope it’s fucking fun.”

_Can anybody find me-_

“And I really hope we never have to fucking see each other again.”

_Somebody to-_

Stan’s mind was still empty as the music faded out slightly, Kyle finally pushing past him and leaving the room for good. In the lull of the music, Stan was sure he could hear the hard slam of the door, though he didn’t turn to look, still staring straight ahead at the empty spot where Kyle had been.

 _Love_.

The silence of the room broke with the end of the last note, the crescendo over, and Stan felt all the bitterness and dejection flood back to him at once. He turned slightly, looking over his shoulder and scowling. That was- over the top. Unfair. Really unnecessary. God, Kyle was such an asshole. Stan didn’t want to talk to him anyway. He didn’t give a shit about whatever stupid thing Kyle wanted to speak to him about. It was probably bullshit.

Stan stared back down to his drink, remnants of his own sullen expression staring back in the darkness of the room. People might’ve been staring at him, but he didn’t give a shit. Fuck those guys. Fuck everyone. Everyone in this town was the worst, and Stan couldn’t give a single shit about any of them.

The song trailed off to an end, and the room was filled with the sounds of only voices talking for a second or two. Then, the first chords of Don’t Stop Me Now started up, and in one swift go, Stan downed his entire cup.

This party really was the worst.


	2. 18th april, monday

**april 18th, monday**

“Well, it’s definitely not broken.”

Taking his hands away from Stan’s arm, the nurse took a step back, heading back over to his computer. For a few moments, the room was filled with only the sound of typing, and Stan kept his eyes down, focusing on some poster warning about the dangers of flu.

“From what I can tell, it’s just a sprain to your elbow,” the nurse said, swerving around in his chair. When a beat of silence passed, he spoke up again. “There shouldn’t be any long term damage, but I’m recommending that you wear a sling for a few weeks, just to avoid any further injury.”

“A few weeks?” Stan glanced up, frowning. “Uh, no. I’m okay.”

“Considering you can’t straighten the arm, I think it would be a good idea.” The nurse turned back to his computer, clicking several times. “Your family’s insurance will cover the cost, so don’t be worried about that.”

“Is it like- possible it’ll heal faster than that, or something?” Stan asked, glancing down at his arm, the left hand tucked underneath to keep it steady. “Like, five days?”

“Even if the pain subsides over the week, I still recommend that you keep the sling on,” the nurse said, and Stan kept his eyes down. Seeming to sense that he had nothing else to say, the nurse stood up, heading towards the door. “I’ll go get that now.”

Stan didn’t move even as he heard the door click shut. It was still too early, with his hazy mind hardly able to concentrate. It seemed cruel to him that it was the first proper day of spring break, and he’d still been forced to get up early.

Well, he supposed it was kind of his own fault.

The nurse came back a few moments later, and even though he knew it was coming, Stan still internally recoiled at the sight of the sling, bigger than he’d expected. It was black, but over the shoulder. Hiding it was going to be harder than he’d thought. Ugh, god. His arm better have healed by the end of the week. No way was he going back to school with that thing wrapped around him.

Stan wordlessly complied as the nurse helped him to fit his arm into the sling, the strap already feeling uncomfortable on his shoulder. Sure, it was nice to not have to support his arm anymore, but now he basically only had one arm, which was- a lot worse. Not to mention it was his right arm. Life really hated him.

“You’ll still need to keep stretching and doing exercises to help the healing,” the nurse carried on, handing him a pamphlet about arm injuries with a series of diagrams on it, the too-happy man in the pictures flexing out his hands like his bones weren’t smashed to pieces. Stan stared down at it, irritation slowly growing. “It’s important you don’t let the muscles get too weak.”

“Okay,” Stan forced his voice out, moving his head up but still not looking the nurse in the eye. “Can I go now?”

“Just a moment,” the nurse said, turning back to his computer, and Stan stared up at the ceiling. If he was honest, he really couldn’t care less about what happened to his arm. It shouldn’t even have gotten hurt in the first place. All he wanted to do right now was go home and get back to sleep, taking back the hours that were stolen from him.

It was a few more moments of questions and advice before the nurse let him leave, only offering him a slip for weak painkillers that were only a level above over-the-counter pills. So, not enough. Stan tried to move his fingers a little as he waited in the corridor for them to hand over the prescription bag, already feeling suffocated with the sling wrapped around him. A dull, aching pain had settled itself around his elbow, morphing into sharp lines of pain whenever he tried to move his arm.

Really, this spring break was off to a great start.

Keeping his head down as he walked past the few old ladies sat in the waiting room, Stan finally escaped the clinic, shoving his good hand into his pocket as he started to head home. It felt eerily empty outside, the relatively new lack of snow added to the absence of people unnerving him slightly. South Park just didn’t feel the same outside of the colder months. It was just like- something was missing.

Stan carried on walking, the sound of his sneakers dragging on the sidewalk echoing up and down the street. Most of the adults were already at work, and everyone else...Stan had no idea. He hadn’t really been involved with stuff like that in a long time. But everyone in this town was shitty anyway, so, whatever.

It was only when Stan was back on his own street did he finally lift his head, realising there was a car parked outside his house. And a few more, further down. Police cars, to be specific. Stan frowned, glancing carefully at one of the officers who was leaning back against the car, speaking into his radio. As Stan approached, the officer looked up, waving him over. It was _definitely_ too early for this.

“Hey, kid,” the officer greeted, slipping his radio back into its holder. Stan didn’t pick up his feet as he trailed closer to him, feeling a wave of self-consciousness when he noticed the officer’s eyes flicker down to his arm. “You live here, right?”

“Yeah, but, uh. My dad isn’t home right now, so-“

“No, no.” He shook his head. “This has nothing to do with your father.”

“Oh.” Stan paused, then frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s actually you we wanted to talk to,” the officer said, and Stan felt the beginnings of anxiety settling in his stomach. “Stanley Marsh, right?”

“Yeah...?” He glanced around just to check this wasn’t some kind of prank or out of control misunderstanding, but there was no-one else there. “Did something happen?”

“Actually, yeah.” The officer nodded in the direction of the next house over. “Your friend Kyle’s been reported missing.”

“...What?” Stan stared, moving to look at the cars down the street. Only two outside Kyle’s house, but, still. That was probably two too many. “What are you talking about?”

“Got a report around seven this morning,” the officer continued, and suddenly his easy-going tone started to get on Stan’s nerves. Like he was talking about a garden ornament going missing, not a fucking person. “Someone noticed the window was smashed, and notified our department.”

“The- window-?” Stan blinked, then glanced around again, peering past the officer and the cars to Kyle’s house. Sure enough, one of the windows had been broken, shards of glass visible down below. The anxiety squirming in his stomach doubled when it hit him that the broken window was Kyle’s. This- couldn’t be for real. There was no way.

“When we checked the house, it was totally empty,” the officer carried on, following his gaze over to the house. “Apparently the rest of the family were on a three-day trip, but your friend stayed home. And no-one seems to have any idea where he is now.”

“I-“ Stan’s voice died in his throat, and he swallowed. “I...don’t know either.”

“We were hoping you could come over to the station and answer a few questions,” the officer continued. “Won’t take longer than twenty minutes.”

“Uh, I-“ Stan glanced back to his house, thinking of his mom still sat inside waiting for him, and the comfort of his bed. “I really don’t know anything, though. We- weren’t even friends, that much.”

“Really?” The officer raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what I heard.”

“We were friends once, just-“ Stan shook his head, frustration seeping in amongst the concern. “I really don’t know. Have you checked like, the library, or the shops, or something? Down by the pond?”

“We’ve still got officers out, but no signs in the town, at least,” he said. “And considering the state of the house, it’s looking pretty certain there’s some suspicious activity involved.”

“Stuff...stuff like that just happens around here,” Stan tried. “It’s probably not a big deal.”

“Maybe not.” He shrugged. “But I’d still recommend you give us an interview anyway. The other guys’ll probably keep coming back here otherwise.”

Stan furrowed his brows, staring down at his arm. Giving an interview was really the last thing he wanted to be doing right now, but maybe it would be better just to get them off his back. Besides, they’d probably find out that it was all Cartman’s fault in a few hours, and none of it would matter anyway. That- was just how things worked.

“Okay, fine,” Stan said, sighing. His arm gave another dull throb of pain, and Stan thought distantly back to the painkillers in his bag. Maybe he could use that as an excuse to get out if it started dragging on too long. “I’ll go, but I really don’t know anything.”

“Thanks,” the officer said, stepping aside to open the car door for him. Stan hoped none of his neighbours were watching him get into the back of a police car on a Monday morning. That would be a fun rumour to deal with. “You might think you don’t know, but every detail will help us figure this out.”

“Okay,” Stan said, sliding into the car and looking longingly out the window at his house. Hopefully his mom wouldn’t be concerned.

“But don’t be too worried,” the officer continued as he started up the car. “They normally find people in the first twenty-four hours anyway.”

Stan wondered if that was still true for cases with broken windows, but elected not to ask. The more he found out, the deeper his anxiety grew, and he didn’t want to end up puking in the back of a police car.

Besides, it probably wasn’t a big deal.

-

“So you were at the party on Saturday night?”

Stan kept his eyes on the table, tracing the dents in the metal. This was going about as well as he’d had expected. “Yeah.”

“What happened there?” the officer asked.

“I don’t really remember.”

“Did you see Kyle?”

“...Kind of.”

“Did you speak to him?”

Stan frowned, mind flickering back. “...Not...really.”

“What did you speak about?”

“Can’t remember.”

“Did he say anything to you that might’ve indicated possible danger?”

Stan glanced up a little, a sudden spring of alarm striking him. The officer just stared back, face serious. “...No?”

“What about after that day? You see him? You were good friends, weren’t you?”

“No.” Stan fixed his stare back to the desk.

“Mind telling me what happened to your arm?”

“...I don’t remember.”

“You don’t seem to have that great of a memory, do you,” the officer said after a short pause, and Stan shrugged with one shoulder, still not looking up. He knew that if he did, he’d only be met with judgement, and he couldn’t really be bothered with that. Not like the guy couldn’t guess the reason anyway. It was a _party_. “Well, if that’s really all you remember, I guess we’re done here.”

“Where’s Yates, anyway?” Stan risked asking, and the officer raised an eyebrow. “I thought he was normally in charge of things like this.”

“He’s out searching with the others right now,” the officer said, collecting his papers. “Anyway, if you remember anything else, let us know.”

“Okay,” Stan said, collecting his bag from the floor and flinching at another wave of pain as he pulled it over his shoulder, shifting his sling a little. With a final glance around the room, Stan said his goodbyes and left, feeling a little guilty as he was thanked for his ‘cooperation’.

As soon as he was back outside, Stan let his shoulders fall, moving to sit down on one of the steps near the bottom. Even though he was sure he’d be asleep as soon as he got home, his mind was still racing, incoherent thoughts buzzing loudly through the fog. This day was- weird. Just one thing after the other. Stan wasn’t sure if he’d been in a doctor’s office and a police station less than an hour apart before. Maybe?

He rested his head on his good hand, letting himself stare off down the street without focusing on any particular thing. It was too bright, and his energy was draining fast, but somehow he couldn’t find it in him to go home just yet. He just needed a moment to- recharge, or something.

“Oh, hello, Stan.”

Stan blinked out of his thoughts, looking up to see Wendy stood on the steps above him, apparently exiting the police station. That was- surprising. Out of all the people he was expecting to see here, Wendy was definitely not one of them.

“Hi, Wendy,” he said, watching as she stepped down to meet him at the bottom, her eyes inquisitive as always.

“Did you have to give an interview too?” she asked, and Stan frowned.

“I mean, yeah, but- they asked you too?” That definitely seemed weird. Stan had a long history with Kyle, so even if they weren’t properly talking anymore, it still made sense to ask him stuff. But- why Wendy? It wasn’t like she had ever really spoken to Kyle. Not properly. She- didn’t know him in the same way.

“I guess they’re just asking everybody right now,” Wendy said, shrugging lightly. “Though I suppose you already know what all this is about.”

“No,” Stan muttered. “I don’t know anything.”

“Oh, really?” Wendy blinked at him, as if surprised that Stan really didn’t know anything about a guy he hadn’t been friends with in months. “Well, that’s a little worrying.”

Stan stared. “Is it?”

“I think so.”

“You don’t think it’s just Cartman and those guys being assholes, like always?” Stan asked, and Wendy hummed a little.

“It might be,” she said. “But I’m not sure. It seems- strange, somehow.”

Stan frowned, shifting slightly. Wendy was smart enough to know how this town worked, and all the stupid shenanigans that constantly went on. If even she was saying something was off, then...

“What happened to your arm?” Wendy asked suddenly, glancing down at his sling. Stan bristled a little, bringing his other arm up in front of it.

“I don’t remember,” he said, then pulled himself up to his feet with another throb of pain. “I have to go home now, anyway. My mom’s waiting for me.”

“Oh, okay,” Wendy said, and Stan set off before she could finish her ‘it was nice seeing you, Stan’.

Considering it wasn’t even twelve yet, Stan definitely felt like he’d spoken to too many people. And been seen by too many people. He hadn’t even had this sling on for two hours, and he’d already run into someone from school. A girl, as well. Not that Wendy was one to start and spread rumours, but her friends were, so who knew how long it would be before everyone in the town knew. God.

Stan pushed his hat down a little, tucking his left hand back into his pocket and picking up his pace a little. Now he really was ready to get back home. Time to leave this weird and kind of shitty day behind him. Maybe he’d spend the next week in his room. Maybe not. The plans were still fuzzy. After all, he hadn’t been expecting things to turn out like this.

After fifteen minutes or so of walking, Stan finally got back to his street, feeling an oppressive aura as he past Kyle’s house. He knew there was no point looking at the window, and that he’d feel better if he just kept his head down, but even still, Stan couldn’t help gazing as he walked past. The glass on the ground had been surrounded by tape, and Stan narrowed his eyes. Something about it just made him feel...uneasy. Even though he didn’t care. At all.

At last, Stan made it to his own door, ready to sleep off the day and wake up tomorrow when everything was back to how it should be. Maybe after things settled back down, he wouldn’t feel so weird and detached. Then he could- try and figure things out again. Maybe.

He stepped through into the front room, and just as soon as he’d clicked the door behind him, his mom stuck her head out from the kitchen doorway.

“You’re back?” she said, then her eyes fell straight to his sling. “Oh no, don’t tell me it was broken-“

“No, it’s fine,” Stan said, stepping towards the couch and dropping his bag onto it, just to momentarily take some of the extra weight off his shoulder. “It’s just the elbow that’s messed up. He said it- won’t take that long to heal.”

“Well, that’s better than a break, I guess,” his mom said, still frowning with concern in a way that drove the guilt deeper into his chest. He tried to tell himself it was just because she worried too much, but sometimes, he couldn’t help but question his actions. “Do you want any painkillers?”

“I already had some,” Stan said, glancing at his bag just to take his eyes away from his mom’s frown.

“You’re sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal.”

“You...want me to make you anything to eat?” his mom asked instead, and Stan shifted a little.

“No, I’m tired anyway.” He was probably a bad son.

“Well, if you’re sure,” his mom said, stepping back into the kitchen. It was a good chance to leave, but something was still bugging him. Picking up his bag again and letting it drag along the floor, Stan moved a little closer to her, watching as she worked on putting dishes away. He would have offered to help, but- his arm was hurting, and it felt awkward to stay for too long.

“...Kyle’s missing,” he said quietly, almost hoping his mom wouldn’t hear him. Instead she looked up at him, face cloaked in dismay again.

“Oh, I know,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s awful. Some men came to speak to me before, and Sheila’s been ringing me non-stop the past two hours. I’m surprised you didn’t mention it before.”

“I didn’t know,” Stan said, swallowing. Even his mom knew. And apparently, Kyle’s mom too. News had spread that fast? “I...had to go to the station.”

“Yeah? I’m surprised they didn’t just let you answer questions here, with your arm and everything.” His mom sighed, shutting the cupboard. The kitchen looked cleaner than it normally did, the surfaces shining. “But still, it’s scary stuff. I know you boys used to get into all kinds of trouble when you were younger, but at this age, it seems a little...strange.”

So his mom thought so too. Just like Wendy had said to him. That- really wasn’t helping to calm the storm in his chest. It would be so much better if everyone else was acting like it was just typical South Park, and not a big deal, and that Kyle was going to be totally fine.

“Well, hopefully everything goes back to normal soon,” his mom carried on, then turned to look at him, eyes soft but tinged with something sad. “Make sure you stay safe though, Stanley. No more going out late.”

“...Okay.” Starting to feel like he was going to throw up, Stan turned away, eyes low. He wondered if his mom noticed it often. Wondered if she was angry, or disappointed in him. Maybe. Probably. “Sorry you had to take the morning off because of me.”

“No, it’s okay. So long as you’re not too badly hurt.” She took a step back, smiling up around the kitchen. “Besides, it’s nice to have the house alone for once.”

“Yeah.” Stan knew what she meant. “Uh, anyway. I’m gonna...”

He glanced around at the stairs, unsure of the best way to say ‘fall asleep and pretend none of this ever happened’. His mom seemed to understand anyway, nodding at him.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be leaving at half-twelve, just so you know.”

Stan nodded back, hoisting up his bag and trailing back to the living room, heading upstairs. The closer he got to his room, the more the pressure seemed to slip away from his body, and the moment he shut his door behind him, it was like nothing had changed at all.

By the time he woke up again, all of this would probably be over with.

-

As it turned out, sleeping with a sling on was a lot harder than Stan had been expecting.

The bright light of his phone told him it was already ten at night, but it felt like he’d only slept about an hour, max. He’d taken some of the pills before his attempt at sleep, but they’d long worn off, and the dull ache of his arm was gradually growing stronger. No matter how tired he was, it was impossible to sleep like this.

Stan pulled himself up slightly, scrolling listlessly on his phone to look at updates he’d already seen. It was an easy way to pass the time whilst he waited for his parents to head to bed, listening for the sounds of footsteps on the stairs. Always his mom first, and then his dad a while later. He must’ve refreshed the page a hundred times before silence set in through the house.

He grimaced as there was another spike of pain along his arm with the shift in gravity, shifting the shoulder strap slightly as he stood. The pack of pills still sat on his dresser, and Stan popped two of them out, swallowing them dry. He could wash them down after.

Downstairs, Stan snuck to the fridge, opening it up and finding whatever leftovers there was from the dinner he’d missed out on. He kept the plate on the counter, leaning over it as he struggled to make his left hand cooperate with holding a fork. It seemed a lot easier in his mind. Stan just kicked the stray bits of food that had fallen closer to the cabinet so they couldn’t be seen, half-aware that he should pick them up, but still not doing.

After that, Stan got the rest of what he needed from the fridge, then trailed back to his room, leaving the plate in the sink. The lack of sleep combined with the pain still radiating up his arm was starting to annoy him, and he made a clumsy attempt to click open the first of the cans. It was hard with one hand. That was annoying too. Everything was just- unnecessary right now. Too loud in his head.

Plugging in his headphones, Stan kept scrolling, but the words all felt empty and irritating. He didn’t care about what other people were doing, or what was happening around the world, and none of their stupid jokes were funny. They were probably all just pretending, too. It was pathetic.

Still distracted, Stan opened the site for the town’s local news. Something about seeing Kyle’s name there in the headlines made everything feel worse, and he nearly downed the can in one go. He was already deliberating on opening a second when he saw that none of the articles had mentioned finding him yet.

What time was it now- nearly midnight? And they still hadn’t seen Kyle at all. That was- that was actually bad, wasn’t it? Kind of enough to get worried about. If he cared. But he didn’t, or at least, he _shouldn’t_ , because they weren’t friends anymore and Kyle hated him anyway.

As much as he didn’t want to look, Stan found himself scrolling through his contacts and finding Kyle’s name hidden amongst them, further down the bottom than he’d ever been before. Stan made sure to scroll right past the most ‘recent’ messages, moving his thumb as fast as he could for a solid thirty seconds before he risked focusing on the screen.

Messages from over a year greeted him, back when they’d still been talking regularly. Simple stuff, basic and easy conversation. Though, even then, he saw a few of his sulky messages, with Kyle doing his best to console him and offer advice. Stan cringed a little, dropping his phone to take another swig. He shouldn’t have said that stuff. Shouldn’t have always acted so sad. Why was he always complaining and trying to make Kyle feel sorry for him?? That was probably why he hated him now. God, and no fucking wonder.

Going back further, Stan desperately looked for a good memory, something light-hearted and fun. After two years, all the sad messages had completely disappeared, and Stan let himself scroll through it slowly, moving back through conversations about movies and homework and plain simple bitching about assholes at school. Back then, Stan never had to think before he spoke. It was so easy before. How could it have changed so much?

_Tank king: Dude  
[Tank king shared a link]  
no fish: Lol, doesn't he realise the door's open?  
Tank kings: Idk I think dogs cant tell sometimes  
Tank king: I feel bad for him :(  
Tank king: He doesn't wanna hurt himself :(((  
no fish: He has to learn somehow.  
Tank king: Must be hard being a dog  
no fish: Right, way worse than anything a human goes through.  
Tank king: You never know  
no fish: X(_

...Something about reading messages with these names was kind of ruining the mournful effect. Stan couldn’t even remember what they were referring to. If the police found Kyle’s phone and looked through his messages, Stan hoped they would at least stay away from these.

Not that the investigation would even get to that point. Stan kept reading through the texts, scrolling further and further back and feeling worse and worse as the time passed by. Growing older was the worst. Changing was the worst. None of this was fair. It wasn’t even his fault he’d ended up like this. Just- fuck everyone. Fuck Kyle for going missing. Fucking drama queen.

Why did everyone think it was so strange? Surely it was just going to be Cartman again, like everything else was. Especially since they hated each other so much. It wasn’t like anything bad was actually going to happen. Kyle would be home tomorrow. There was no point getting all worked up about it, or even thinking about it.

The painkillers hadn’t seemed to have helped much as Stan leaned back, draping his left arm over his head and sighing. His arm still hurt, he still felt sick, and he was still thinking about Kyle.

Stan refreshed the page again, just in case anybody was publishing a new article in the middle of the night, then clicked back to his messages. Actually, hadn’t Wendy mentioned it being weird too? But he’d never found out why. Maybe she knew something? Maybe she could help in some way. Wendy was smart. She might even have figured it out already.

Stan didn’t scroll back to any past messages this time.

_Stan: Why did you think its weird anywya  
Stan: Abou t Kyle_

He stared at the screen for a moment more, before moving back to the internet, ready to read more things he didn’t care about and more posts he didn’t find funny.

With a slight hiss, Stan cracked open another can. The awkward fumble of his fingers around the ring was, at least, starting to feel a little easier. Good. He was going to need it.

After all, the night was just starting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i found out that it can snow even in april in colorado!! i think that's pretty cool ouo  
> thank you again for reading this chapter!!


	3. 19th april, tuesday

**april 19th, tuesday**

It was way too early when someone knocked on his door.

Stan rolled over, then grimaced when he felt a spike of pain that forced his eyes open. The sky outside was still too bright and too pale. He made a grab for his phone, then realised it wasn’t on the dresser beside him, nor somewhere beneath him in the covers. Well, whatever time it was, it was definitely too soon for him to be awake. Especially considering he’d been up early yesterday too. Two days in a row wasn’t fair.

There was another, softer and more hesitant knock, before a voice called out, “Stan? Can I come in?”

...That wasn’t his mom’s voice. Definitely a girl, but not his mom, and not Shelly, considering she already moved out a long time ago. Stan blinked a few times, trying to wake himself up. Half of him was tempted to just call out ‘no, go away’, but the other half was too tired to care.

“Please be decent,” the voice called out, more familiar now, and he hardly had time to think as the door was pushed open. And then it became a lot more apparent why the voice was so familiar.

“Uh, Wendy-” Stan spluttered, sitting up and suddenly feeling very aware that he was still in the same clothes he was wearing yesterday, hair messed up, bed surrounded by empty cans and sheets half on the floor It was a heavy contrast to her carefully pleated skirt and straightened hair. “What are you doing here?”

“...I guess I should have seen this coming,” she said with a sigh, glancing around his room with a sagely understanding look that made Stan uncomfortable. It was so out of place having her here. The colours, the aura- it didn’t fit with the gloom he’d grown accustomed to. “I sent you a text.”

Stan made another attempt to find his phone, looking around and finally catching sight of it on the floor, and doing his best to lean down to get it without knocking his arm inside the sling. The clock read 11:03, and sure enough, a string of unread messages from Wendy could be seen underneath, sent several hours back.

_Wendy: Well, so far there are lots of things that just aren’t adding up.  
Wendy: If you want, I can come over to discuss it with you in person. It might be easier.  
Wendy: That is, if you’re not going to still be asleep. You did send that last text pretty late.  
Wendy: Please try to be awake. I’ll be there around 11, okay?_

“...Oh,” Stan said, and Wendy just rolled her eyes, still hovering by the door. “Yeah, uh. I didn’t see.”

“I figured,” she said, then paused. “...Want me to give you a moment?”

“Yeah, I just-“ Stan pulled himself up, managing to knock a can to the floor at the same time. The clink of the empty metal echoed much too loudly. “I wasn’t feeling well last night-“

“I can see that,” Wendy said, toned clipped as always. God, out of all the people Stan would want to see him half-awake and hungover... “That’s okay, I can wait.”

Stan pulled himself up hazily, glancing around his room just to check there weren’t any stray pairs of underwear lying about. That was the last thing he needed right now. Luckily, he was in the clear, and Stan made a note to thank his mom for picking his clothes off the floor the other day, and to thank God for taking pity on him. For now, Stan just grabbed a change of clothes blindly from his closet, before ducking out the room.

It had been a... _long_ time since he last had Wendy round to his house. Like, maybe not since he was like twelve years old, and he was sure then she’d only been there for like ten minutes, if that. Maybe it was still stupid to feel the same awkwardness that had been there back then, but somehow it still lingered. A girl in his room was just- weird. Like it didn’t fit.

Stan frowned as he struggled to undo the sling, trying to rest his arm against the bathroom counter, before giving up. It wasn’t that gross to keep on the same shirt he’d slept in. Right? Wendy probably wouldn’t even notice. Probably. Even if she tended to pick up on things easily.

Maybe she’d picked up something about Kyle. Or did she know where he was? Stan splashed his face with water, eyeing the dark circles under his eyes. Wendy normally never let herself get involved with the town’s bullshit and drama, but maybe this time was different. She’d probably changed too, just like everyone else.

Well, he could just listen to what she had to say, and then say okay, fine, whatever, leave now. Go back to sleep and pretend none of this had ever happened. Just another bad memory to add to the heap. With a sigh, Stan pushed his hair down one last time and dragged himself back to his room.

“Feeling any better?” Wendy asked as he stepped back in, keeping his head low as he dug around in his drawers for some aspirin. This time he wasn’t worried about taking them dry. “Headache?”

“Look, I know you didn’t come here just to judge me,” Stan muttered, sitting down on his bed and tossing the pills back. “Just tell me what you wanted to say.”

“I’m not judging you,” Wendy retorted, looking mildly indignant, before she took a few steps and sat down on Stan’s desk chair. “I’m glad you asked, honestly. I don’t think anybody is taking this seriously enough.”

“It’s South Park, what did you expect.”

“Yes, but I’d say Kyle’s a pretty important character,” Wendy said, looking thoughtful.

“I didn’t realise we were a game show now.”

“No, but like...if one of the other kids went missing, I’d expect this. But not someone like Kyle.”

“I don’t think anyone cares about how much I’ve gone off the radar,” Stan muttered.

“Well, that’s different,” Wendy said, then shook her head as if to dismiss that thought. Stan wasn’t sure what to think about that. “But that isn’t the only reason I think it’s strange.”

“What do you think is strange, then?” Stan said, shifting on his bed.

“What do you know about Kyle?” Wendy asked, looking towards him pointedly, and Stan looked away. “I mean, about what happened before he went missing.”

“Not...much.”

“You spoke at the party?”

“Yeah, but...we didn’t really say anything.”

“I heard that you had an argument.”

“People saw that?” Stan asked, feeling his chest sink. Somehow he felt less embarrassed, and more ashamed.

“I don’t think anybody heard it, exactly,” Wendy carried on. “But yes, people saw Kyle yelling at you on Friday night.”

“I guess that means the police are gonna find out, huh,” Stan said, sighing.

“If you didn’t tell them, then yes, they’re going to find out.” Wendy shot him another look. “Though you really should tell the police everything you know.”

“I was drunk, I hardly remember it anyway.”

“Like with your arm?” Wendy enquired, and Stan kept quiet, staring down at his bed with his annoyance steadily growing. “Well, anyway. I was thinking – South Park doesn’t seem like a place where random kidnappings would just happen, you know? It seems out of...character, somehow.”

“Kidnapping?” Stan stared. “Why would it be a kidnapping?”

“I assumed that was what the police were working with,” Wendy said, pulling out her phone and starting to fiddle around with something, the light purple case another clash with his dim room. “Have you seen Kyle’s house yet?”

“Yeah, I mean- the window’s smashed up.” Stan thought back to the sharp shards he’d seen outside the house, protected by the bright yellow tape. Like someone had already died there.

“But what about the inside?” Wendy carried on, apparently oblivious to his discomfort as she carried on tapping on her phone.

“Why would I have been inside?” Stan asked, frowning. “I haven’t been there since last year.”

“Then maybe we should go and take a look tomorrow,” Wendy suggested lightly, then stopped fiddling with her phone, apparently finding what she was looking for. She took up and leaned over to him, holding it out. “See? The news are running with it too.”

“I- read it last night,” Stan said, taking the phone anyway to check the latest update. There wasn’t much more than yesterday, just details about how Kyle was still missing, and how the police wanted more details. Sure, the police were going with it being a break-in, but the validity of their reporting was always something to be questioned. Sometimes it reported the normal as crazy, sometimes the crazy as sane. Stan had stopped reading it after they published an article about how a flat tyre thrown on the side of the road was a sign of capitalism collapsing.

But still, it wasn’t like Cartman was incapable of doing something to Kyle. There were definitely instances in the past where he’d snuck into Kyle’s room in the middle of the night to try and ruin his life, so.

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird?” Wendy asked, taking the phone back from Stan.

“You really don’t think it couldn’t just be Cartman and those guys again?”

“It could be,” Wendy said, tone suggesting she didn’t believe that at all. “But, this feels different to Cartman’s normal modus operandi.”

“What?”

“Like, M.O. It’s Latin.”

“No, I- _what_ feels different?” Stan tried again, patience wearing thin. “You keep saying it’s different, but you haven’t even said how yet.”

“I said it feels out of character.”

“But that’s not really a big thing. Maybe this is just like...the town’s way of changing. Who knows, maybe this is gonna happen every week now. Just a new trend.”

“Think about it, Stan,” Wendy said firmly. “Spring break starts, Kyle’s family go on a trip leaving him alone. And that night, there’s an unprovoked ‘break-in’, and no other suspicious activity around town.”

“So?” Stan shifted, suddenly wondering if he was stupid and that this was actually all obvious stuff. Though, even with Wendy staring him down, he still wasn’t sure he saw it as strange as she did.

“If it _was_ Cartman, don’t you think there’d be other signs?” she questioned. “And they must be hiding him somewhere, but the police have already searched and found no signs of anything else amiss.” Wendy sighed. “I just- need more information.”

“I can’t help you with that,” Stan said, frowning. “I already said.”

“But I feel like you can,” Wendy persisted. “When I was talking to the police, I kind of got this feeling that they don’t know that much about Kyle. Definitely not to the same extent that you do.”

“Did,” Stan corrected, voice low.

“Regardless of how long it’s been since you last spoke, you can’t say that a lifetime of knowing each other is suddenly useless,” Wendy said then, voice sharp as she crossed her arms. She always had that aura about her, something oppressive and kind of scary, but also commanding respect. It was kind of amazing they’d ever managed to actually date, considering how different they were. “Don’t you think you could help?”

“Help with what?” Stan asked, pulling at his sling slightly. “Are you going to try and solve this or whatever? It’s not really worth it.”

“I just think it would be useful to look into some stuff ourselves, independent of the police,” Wendy said. “But if you don’t want to help, that’s fine. I just thought I would ask, since you messaged me.”

“You actually think I’d be of any use?” Stan gave Wendy a doubtful look.

“I think so, yes.” Wendy shrugged lightly. “If it all ends up to be Eric Cartman’s fault, then I’ll give this one to you. But, somehow I don’t think the answer is going to appear so soon.”

“...You must be pretty stuck for ideas of how to spend your break,” Stan said, and Wendy smiled wryly.

“I’m just interested in solving a mystery,” she said, brushing her hair to the side. “Especially knowing how the police force in this town are a little...you know.”

Stan tried to reflect on what he’d been told, head still feeling a little fuzzy. To be honest, he wasn’t sure if he wanted get dragged into another adventure, even if it wasn’t with the usual guys. Being with Wendy still felt awkward. Just awkward in different ways. Slightly over the usual amount of awkwardness exes generally had for each other? Well, it was probably just him, honestly.

But as uncomfortable as it was, Wendy _was_ pretty smart. She’d always easily achieved highest in their class, and always seemed to have the solution that nobody else could find. No doubt she’d be able to figure out what had happened to Kyle. And maybe it would be nice to have some confirmation that he wasn’t like, dead, or something. Maybe once they found him, Kyle would even be happy that Stan had been worried enough to look into where he’d been, and they’d be able to talk again...

...Something like that, anyway.

“I guess I can help,” Stan said, shifting again. The pain in his arm was slowly starting to return, and he distantly thought about if he could mix two types of painkillers together. “But- I really don’t know that much. Things changed, a lot.”

“It’s fine,” Wendy said, holding up her phone again and typing something in. “So we agree to keep investigating until Kyle’s found?”

“I dunno. Maybe.” Stan pulled a face. “It won’t take that long.”

“Mm, probably not.” Wendy started scrolling through her phone again, lashes covering her eyes. “So, I was thinking we can start by visiting Kyle’s house. I was going to suggest it today, but since you’re...’not well’-“

“Wait, what?” Stan stared. “We can’t go to Kyle’s house.”

“I know it’s kind of swamped by police, but since you were good friends-“

“No, I mean-“ Stan shook his head, mind racing. All the thoughts he didn’t want to think about were suddenly clustering around his head, and he clenched his right hand, feeling the pain spike up his wrist all the way up to his shoulder. “What about his mom?”

Wendy blinked at him, finally looking up from her phone. “What about her?”

“I mean- we were, like...like, we’re not friends anymore, so...” Stan had seen Kyle’s mom at the peak of her wrath more than a few times, and the thought of having it directed towards him was unbearable. Tripled the guilt in his stomach. “...Don’t you think it would be kind of awkward?”

Wendy sighed, looking at him with some strange mix of pity and mild irritation. “Look, I know things weren’t great between you and Kyle, but that doesn’t change that you were best friends for _years_. A few bad months doesn’t change that.”

“Yeah, but...” Stan glanced from his drawers, to his phone, and back to his arm. He clenched his hand again.

“If they’re uncomfortable with it, they can always say no,” Wendy said finally, something decisive in her voice. She stood up, smoothening her hair again. Stan wondered what it would feel like to have that much control and direction in life. To be awake and out of the house before noon. Looking perfect with the best grades in the school, surrounded by friends.

Everyone seemed to adore her, just like they always had done. Back when they were thirteen, Stan remembered Kyle asking him if he thought Wendy was the prettiest girl in school, and how the question had confused him.

_“Of course I do, dude,”_ he’d said, shutting his locker with a puzzled stare. _“Just because we broke up doesn’t mean I hate her now.”_

_“Is she the only girl you find pretty?”_ Kyle had asked, leaning back with his gaze down at the books collected in his arms.

_“I mean...no?”_

_“Who else do you think is pretty?”_

_“Why?”_ Stan had frowned at him, trying to figure out if this was some weird code for something. He’d wondered if maybe rumours had started to spread again.

_“I was just wondering.”_ Kyle shrugged. _“Like...I dunno. Sometimes I can’t tell. Is that weird?”_

_“It’s fine if you don’t think Wendy is pretty, dude.”_

_“That’s not what I mean.”_ Kyle had looked troubled for a second, then shook his head. _“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. Did you do the math homework?”_

Stan hadn’t really figured out what Kyle had meant back then, though he’d worried for a few weeks that he might’ve gotten a crush on Wendy and been scared to tell him. For a couple classes, he’d kept his eyes trained on the two of them, trying to see if there was anything there, but nothing ever happened, and soon he’d just disregarded the whole thing.

Well, even if they’d dated, she was still leagues above him. It seemed weird that she was asking for his help, but...honestly, she’d probably get sick of him soon enough. And hopefully by the time that happened, he had Kyle back. Even if- Kyle didn’t want him back.

“Okay,” Stan said, sighing. “Fine, okay. I’ll help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is pretty short and simple i guess ouo""  
> more to come soon~


	4. 20th april, wednesday

**april 20th, wednesday**

Three days into the break, and Stan was finally allowed to sleep in past eleven.

Exhaustion was still heavy in his bones as he leaned over to grab his phone from the floor, shutting off the alarm and reopening the news page left open from last night. One refresh, then two, but nothing new. Stan’s annoyance quickly faded, the worry grinding in his stomach once again.

At first he’d thought it was a stupid plan to visit Kyle’s house, unnecessary and awkward, even if Wendy had been nice enough to allow an afternoon meeting this time. But now...it didn’t seem like _that_ bad of an idea. Still kind of, but not- entirely. Maybe being gone for three days wasn’t totally unheard of in this town, but normally by now, _someone_ would’ve said something. Wendy hung out with the girls, and Stan knew she knew all the latest gossip. If anyone knew anything, they’d have said. But that hadn’t. And Kyle was still missing.

Stan managed to spend another thirty minutes scrolling down his phone, searching through obscure Twitter tags and news sites that Stan was sure Wendy would’ve already checked, then decided maybe it was time to get up. Honestly, he was feeling pretty grimy. And he still had two hours before meeting Wendy. Added to Kyle’s house not being exactly far, it was enough time to at least change his shirt.

With a pain he was quickly growing accustomed to, Stan pulled himself up, feeling dizzy for just a moment before stumbling out of his room. Despite how long it had been, it was surprisingly easy to slink back into the early morning routine of eating, showering, and brushing his teeth. By half-twelve, he was almost feeling like a functional person. Just so long as he ignored the ten minute struggle with his sling before getting into the shower (and the twenty minutes getting out), he could almost believe he was living a normal life. Just- getting ready to go meet with friends.

Almost.

Stan stared back at himself in the mirror, surveying the look of wearing his jacket over the sling. It actually wasn’t too obvious. So long as he didn’t look too closely at the empty sleeve dangling to the right of him, or the slight lump in the fabric, it was hardly noticeable. Now at least he could go to Kyle’s house without looking like an idiot.

It took longer than it should’ve done to lock the door with his left hand, but after a few moments, Stan managed to get a successful click from the lock, stepping back onto his front lawn. Wendy had agreed to meet him here, and it was less embarrassing if she didn’t have to go in and grab him like some kind of carer. Today he was showing her that he wasn’t totally incapable. Like, he’d even showered. With _shampoo_. That was a big deal. Right?

Stan was back to refreshing the news site when Wendy appeared, five minutes early, as always. She looked surprised to see him standing there.

“It’s nice to see you awake,” she commented, walking up to him, bag over her shoulder and looking as collected as always. “And on time.”

“Yeah, well.” Stan shrugged like he did this every morning and Wendy was crazy to have ever thought otherwise. “We going or what?”

“Okay,” Wendy said, blinking at him, before taking the first step away from the house. Stan had to force himself to follow, sneakers seeming to stick to the ground in apprehension. He really hoped the painkillers would help calm his nerves a little. Did they do that? God, he hoped so.

Stan didn’t say anything as they walked over to the next house, the urge to speak falling away as he noticed the (now single) police car still parked out the front. Wendy paused when she got to the door.

“Do you have like, a knock?” she asked. Stan stared.

“What?”

“Like, I don’t know, some kind of special knock?”

“Who has special knocks?” Stan asked, staring in disbelief. “That’s not a thing.”

“Lots of people have special knocks,” Wendy said indignantly. “Besides, you’re- you’ve known each other a long time-“

“We don’t have a knock,” Stan cut in, annoyed, then raised his hand to knock. Two long, three short.

“I don’t know why that would be weird when you used to wear matching wristbands,” Wendy muttered.

“That was like, six years ago-“

Stan stopped himself, the door handle clicking as the door was pulled open, and instantly he felt all of the pseudo-confidence drain from his body. Actually, no. This was a bad idea. Kyle’s mom was _terrifying-_

“Oh, Wendy, Stanley,” Sheila greeted, omitting that ever-oppressive aura, even if she... didn’t actually sound mad. “What are you two doing here? Oh, is it to do with my Kyle? Do you know something?”

“No, no, sorry,” Wendy said, and Stan felt a wave of appreciation that she was stepping forwards to handle the speaking. “We just- wanted to talk. See if there’s anything that might help.”

“Well, the police are still very busy, but-“ Sheila shook her head, moving aside. “Please, come in. If there’s anything I can do to help, just- please, let me know.”

They stepped through into the house, and Stan could tell immediately that something was off. Less than the papers stacked by the phone, or overflowing in the bin, the atmosphere itself just felt really- wrong. God, it was like someone had- died, or something. Stan swallowed.

“Have a seat, please,” Sheila urged, and Stan followed blindly along after Wendy, keeping his eyes low and tugging on his jacket. “Do you two want anything to drink?”

“No, thank you,” Wendy said politely as Stan just shook his head sullenly. “We don’t want to take up too much of your time. It must be a very difficult time for you.”

“Oh, it’s simply awful!” Sheila said, sitting down across from them. “I knew it was a terrible idea to leave Kyle here alone whilst we went on that trip. Honestly, what was I thinking? He said he wanted to stay and study, but he could’ve studied with us just fine! I should’ve been more forceful...”

“No, it isn’t your fault,” Wendy said smoothly, and Stan tried to keep hidden behind her, leaning back slightly on the sofa. “Have they found any leads so far?”

Sheila shook her head sadly. “No, not even a suspicious fingerprint.”

“And Kyle didn’t mention any danger?” Wendy carried on. “Anyone he might’ve- had an argument with?”

Stan threw a sudden look to Wendy, a pang of irritation running through him. Something about how she phrased it struck him wrong. Because obviously if Kyle was going to argue with someone, it was going to him. Everyone knew that.

“Oh no, of course not!” Sheila exclaimed, and Stan couldn’t help his look of surprise. “If my bubbe had told me about any kind of trouble, I would’ve done my best to make sure he stayed absolutely safe!”

Wendy hummed, glancing down at her lap, and Stan glanced at her. Hair in a ponytail and face serious, she really gave off journalist vibes. Stan wondered again if he really needed to be there. Kyle’s mom would have let Wendy in alone, no problem. He was just- extra baggage.

“Oh, but Stanley,” Sheila started suddenly, and Stan jumped slightly, sitting up and swallowing with a dry mouth. This was it. “You must be so distraught about this whole thing. I know how close you boys are.”

“Oh- uh-“ Stan glanced at Wendy quickly, before back to Sheila. “Yeah.”

“Really, I thought you all of people would’ve known,” she said, staring at him with what really looked like genuine pity. “When the police told me you didn’t know anything, I just didn’t know what to think. You two are always telling each other everything, so I was sure...”

Stan stared for a moment, then looked back to Wendy. He was sure their expressions must’ve matched. This- didn’t feel right.

“Tell me if he texts you, or you hear anything, please-“ Sheila broke off, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “I’m just so worried! To think even you don’t know, his best friend...”

“Yeah, I-“ Stan swallowed again, voice sticking in his throat. “I will.”

“There’s no need to get upset, Mrs. Broflovski,” Wendy said, moving along the sofa to hold out an arm to Kyle’s mom, patting her shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll all be okay. Kyle isn’t stupid.”

“No, no, that’s true,” Sheila said, sniffing hard. “He’s not, I know that. I’m sure he can get himself out of any trouble. It’s just...”

Wendy nodded slowly. “It’s okay, I understand.” She lingered for a few more moments, and Stan just shifted on the sofa, feeling uncomfortable. The unspoken conversation between him and Wendy was heavy in the air, and he felt the need to discuss it as fast as possible. “Is it okay if we look upstairs? To see if there’s anything to help?”

“Well, I don’t have a problem with it, but the police told us not to go in Kyle’s room,” Sheila said, then sighed. “Oh, I wish I could just go in and tidy up, put everything back to normal...”

“Of course, that’s fine,” Wendy said, standing up, and Stan looked up suddenly, remembering something.

“Is Ike home?” he asked, trying not to feel awkward as Kyle’s mom and Wendy both turned to look at him.

“Oh yes, he’s up in his room,” Sheila said, then frowned. “I’m- a little worried about him, honestly. He doesn’t really seem to be... _processing_ this too well.”

Stan had no idea what that was meant to mean. “Okay, uh. We’ll try speaking to him.”

“Just do whatever you can to help,” Sheila said, starting to look tearful again. Stan took that as reason to hurry up and leave, before the tension could settle back in again. Wendy didn’t say anything until they were safe upstairs, hidden from Kyle’s mom.

“She doesn’t know,” Wendy said quietly, and Stan nodded in agreement, eyes low.

“I guess he didn’t tell her that we like- stopped...talking,” Stan said, struggling to find a way to phrase it that didn’t hurt his heart. “It’s a good thing, though, I guess.”

“It helps us right now, but more importantly,” Wendy said, whipping her phone out from her pocket and starting to type swiftly. “It means Kyle wasn’t telling his mom everything going on in his life.”

“Well, she is kind of...” Stan glanced behind him, just in case. “Bitchy.”

“But if he _was_ in danger,” Wendy said, not looking up from her phone. “She wouldn’t know. So we can’t rule that out.”

“What kind of danger?” Stan asked, frowning. “Who are you texting?”

“Nobody,” Wendy said, flashing the phone in his direction. “I’m taking notes.”

“You’re really taking this seriously,” Stan said, leaning over to look. There was already a lot of text filling up the screen, and it gave him an uneasy feeling. “You think it’s serious??”

“I don’t know yet,” Wendy said, finishing her notes and slipping her phone back into her jeans’ pocket. “But it’s always better to be over-prepared.”

Stan didn’t say anything, letting his eyes drift around the hallway. It was strange being back here again, same always, yet everything feeling so different. He had years and years of memories of this place, but right now it was hard to grasp onto one in particular. His eyes lingered on Kyle’s door, and he thought about everything behind it. The desk, and the chair, and the bed – all where Kyle wasn’t.

“It’s a shame we can’t go in there yet, isn’t it,” Wendy said with a sigh, following his gaze.

“Can’t we just go in anyway?” Stan said, frowning. “I mean, it’s just Kyle’s room.”

“I understand what you’re thinking, but I think it’s better to stay away for now,” Wendy said.

“But- what if he’s in there? Like, he could be, right??”

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think the police would’ve found him by now?”

“Well...maybe he’s like- in the closet or something.”

“In the closet,” Wendy repeated, voice deadpan. “For three days?”

“Yeah?”

Wendy just shook her head. “If the police aren’t done, we might disturb something important. We can try another time, okay?”

“Okay...”

Stan kept his eyes down. It just felt wrong, being in Kyle’s house without going inside his room. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a familiar memory of staring at the door, unable to reach out his hand and open it. Except, things back then couldn't have been more different.

He'd been stood on the other side, hands clenched at his side, with Kyle on the bed behind him. They'd prided themselves with watching some famous eighteen plus horror film despite being six years too young, and then laughed about how not scary it was. Getting ready to watch another film, when Stan had remembered he left the other bag of chips downstairs.

 _"...Why are you just standing there, dude?"_ Kyle had asked, and Stan had frowned at the handle, stone-still.

_"No reason."_

_"You're seriously scared?"_

_"No way!”_

_"Then go!"_

_"...Come with me."_ Stan glanced around his shoulder, shooting Kyle a look, and his friend just stared back at him. The slight hesitation in his answer gave away too much.

_"Why do need me to go with you? It's literally just downstairs!"_

_"If you're not scared either, what's the problem?"_

They'd stared at each other in a silent dare, waiting, before Kyle had just huffed, leaning back against the pillows. _"I don't really care that much anyway."_

It was the same door as it had been back then, but this time- it felt so different. There were worse things behind there than monsters and ghouls. The rest of the world behind him, not four walls and his best friend.

“Which one is Ike’s room?” Wendy asked, turning around to survey the hallway, and Stan forced himself back into the present, even if it was somewhat unwillingly. “You know better than me.”

“He might be upset,” Stan said, stepping over to the door across from them. “I mean, Kyle’s mom did say he seemed kind of fucked up.”

“Well, it’s worth a shot, anyway. Besides, aren’t you kind of...friends?”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” Stan pursed his lips. He knew Ike, he’d talked to Ike, but...calling it anything like a friendship was probably too strong. By this point, it was probably more of a tolerance than anything else. Even still, Stan raised his knuckles to the door, and waited.

“What?” a rough voice yelled back, and Stan hesitantly cracked the door open, leaning in to see Ike engaged with his computer, headphone and mic all set up, and an array of energy drink cans around the keyboard.

“Uh, can we talk?” Stan asked, feeling Wendy lean next to him. “About Kyle-“

“I’m playing Minecraft,” Ike snapped back, not taking his gaze away from the screen.

“Well, yeah, but, your brother-“

“So go away!”

“Ike, listen, we just wanted to ask-“ Wendy started, but Ike half-turned around in his chair, holding one hand against his mic.

“I said, _I’m playing Minecraft_ ,” he growled, before turning back again, pushing his mic back up. “No, I’m here, just some people in my house...”

“Okay, thanks anyway,” Stan muttered, moving back and shutting the door again. Wendy seemed more put-off than him, eyes narrowed.

“What was that about?”

“That’s just Ike, honestly,” Stan said, shrugging. “It’s ‘cause he’s like, Canadian or something.”

“So that was normal?” Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Even though his brother is _missing_.”

“Well, I mean, he _was_ in a cave.”

“I think we should come back another time,” Wendy sighed, once again pulling out her phone. Stan was growing increasingly interested in whatever she had written down on there, and tried to sneak a look whilst she typed something else down. “It could be denial, of course.”

“Or just how he is.”

“That too, I suppose,” Wendy said, and typed for a few more seconds before lowering her phone, suddenly staring at Stan head on. The icy blue of her eyes was too piercing, and he looked away.

“So, are we done?” Stan asked, focused on the carpet. “I mean, we spoke to his mom and Ike, and we can’t go in his room, so...”

“For now.” Wendy set off towards the stairs with everlasting determination, and Stan followed along after her. It was easy to hide in her responsible aura as she said a goodbye to Kyle’s mom, promising again to update her if she found any more information. Stan didn’t look up from the ground until they were back outside in the cold.

“Well, that was kind of...pointless,” Stan said, sighing and watching his breath fog up in the air. This really hadn’t been a day worth showering for. “Guess I’ll go home again.”

“Stan, wait,” Wendy said suddenly, and he looked up, meeting her gaze again. “I was hoping we could- talk a little.”

“About Kyle?”

“About _you_ ,” Wendy said. “It’s been a while since we spoke. I thought it might be a good idea to catch up on things.”

“I mean...there’s not really that much to catch up on,” Stan said, frowning, then sighed. Might as well get a little more time out of all the prep he’d put in to being awake. “But sure, we can talk, whatever.”

“Let’s take a short walk,” Wendy said, gesturing out to the road in front of them. “You don’t have any other plans today, right?”

“No,” Stan said, with a spike of irritation. Wasn’t that obvious enough? It was like she was only asking to make him admit it.

“Okay, then let’s head back towards mine,” Wendy said, already setting off, and Stan tagged along after, staring at the sidewalk. “We’ll take the long route.”

“There’s really nothing interesting to talk about,” Stan muttered, watching his shadow move along, the slight wind catching his face.

“Well, let’s just start with the basics,” Wendy said. “How have you been lately?”

That didn’t feel like a basic question to Stan. “Fine, I guess.”

“I haven’t seen you around school much.”

“I still go,” Stan felt the need to clarify, knowing he was being just slightly defensive. “I just- keep to myself now.”

“Do you have any plans for after graduation?”

“...I feel like this is some kind of interview,” Stan muttered, stopping as they reached the edge of the road and lifting his eyes just enough to see the red light. “What are you doing, anyway? Going to some fancy college?”

“That’s the plan,” Wendy said, and he glanced at her as she gave him a wry smile. “I’m hoping to graduate valedictorian, if I can.”

“I always thought Kyle would do that,” Stan replied almost absently, and the words turned sour on his tongue as soon as he’d said them. It would’ve been fine, in any other situation, but now it felt like that ‘would’ was because Kyle _couldn’t_ anymore. Because he wasn’t here anymore.

The light turned green, but Stan didn’t cross, staring down at himself. A hand settled on his shoulder.

“It’ll be okay, Stan,” Wendy said softly, and it felt a little embarrassing to know he’d been so obviously shaken by his own words.

“Maybe,” Stan replied, then frowned. “But even when he comes back, he still won’t care about me, so. Whatever.”

“Is that all you care about?”

The words weren’t unkind, but they hadn’t been what he was expecting, and a stab of panic hit him, eyes lifting in a hurry. “No, I- I just mean-“ Stan looked for the words, but the fog in his brain was too thick. “I dunno.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Wendy clarified, but Stan still wasn’t sure. The light had switched back to red, and he stepped back from the curb.

“Is that enough talking? Your house is pretty near, so.” Stan shrugged his left shoulder. “I told you there wasn’t much to catch up on.”

Wendy stared at him, focused and analytical in that unnerving way she always was, and he was sure that she could tell he was avoiding too many questions. But- it was boring stuff. Embarrassing stuff. Stuff that could only be met with judgement or pity, and Stan wasn’t really in the mood for either.

“Okay, Stan,” she said after a moment more of searching, voice seeming to catch on a sigh. “I’ll call you tomorrow if anything happens, okay? And please do the same for me.”

“I mean, if I still have your number,” Stan said, trying his best to sound nonchalant. Wendy raised an eyebrow.

“You were the one who texted _me_ first.”

“Oh.” Goddammit. “Yeah.”

“See you,” Wendy said, setting off just as the light switched back, and Stan watched her go, before turning around and putting a hand to his face.

God, he was stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sure i confused myself by making the chapters have american date format and the chapter titles not lol;;;;  
> i'm just waiting for the day i write the wrong date >>"""""  
> again, thanks for reading!!


	5. 21st april, thursday

**april 21st, thursday**

With Stan’s first refresh of the morning, a new headline popped up.

His heart momentarily sped up as he saw the new title and picture, but dipped back down when he realised nothing had actually changed. Different words, same content. Still missing. So- over four days total. Stan shuffled up in his bed, readjusting his sling slightly as he did so. At the top of his screen, he could see a notification from Wendy, telling him about the article and sharing the link with him. Stan didn’t click to see the rest of the messages, opting to read the article first.

This one was a lot longer than all the other ones had been, and Stan didn’t really know if that was a good or a bad thing. Whereas before it had simply been as much as ‘someone missing, not found’, this one had names, times, details. Stan flicked the article back to the top and started reading, heart beating hard in his chest. Maybe he should’ve checked Wendy’s other messages first.

The top image was just one of Kyle’s house, broken window on display, and even though it was weird to see it on a news page, it was nothing new. Scrolling further down, the second picture was also one he’d already seen, but made his heart pang nevertheless. Kyle giving a derisive smile to the camera, sat against the backdrop for last year’s school photos. Stan remembered watching from the back of the line, missing a time when they’d queued up together and mocked each other’s faces afterwards. Kyle had walked past him on his way back to class, and hadn’t even turned to see Stan’s despondent stare. It was hard to smile for his own shot.

Everyone in town was going to see that picture, but to them it was just going to be a picture. Underneath, all the details that Stan could recall faster than his own - Kyle’s height, eye colour, hair – were all things other people would glance over quickly and dismiss. Most people in the town probably already knew of Kyle; there weren’t _that_ many people in South Park. But yet, it still felt like nobody cared. Four days was too long to not care.

Stan’s frown increased as he scrolled past the basic details and onto the new information. Some of it was just more specific versions of things he already knew. The call had been around seven in the morning - a report about the broken window - just as the police had told him. There was also mention of damage to Kyle’s room, and Stan felt uneasy when he thought back to the house they’d been in just yesterday. He should’ve ignored Wendy. Should’ve just gone in anyway. ‘Damage’ could mean so many things.

The rest of the article was just a copy-paste of the same ‘please contact us if you have seen Kyle Broflovski’ that had been there since the start, and finally Stan moved to check the messages from Wendy.

_Wendy: There are some things here that we didn’t know before.  
Wendy: Some of the pieces are starting to add up, at least._

Stan’s fingers slid across the screen as he hurried to reply. She’d only sent those thirty minutes ago, at just after eleven. Maybe she was still active.

_Stan: What do you mean  
Stan: I don’t think anythings starting to add up_

Whilst waiting for a reply, Stan slid around to hang his legs off the side of his bed, reaching over for the painkillers on his dresser. The pain always seemed worse in the morning, with having to change positions and get dressed and everything else. The fact that it was still just as bad as it had been back on Monday wasn’t giving him much hope of losing the sling before school started again. God, that morning seemed so far away now. So much for his plan of not existing all week.

Just as Stan was midway through changing his shirt, struggling to get the sleeve over his unslinged arm, his phone buzzed, and he hurried to finish the job, hissing as he managed to knock his right arm with his left. The pain buzzed in his arm as he made a grab for his phone.

_Wendy: Well, considering how long it’s been without any developments, and the fact that even the article is stating it’s suspicious, I have a feeling this may not be as straightforward as I first thought.  
Wendy: I have a few theories, so far. Maybe we can meet and discuss?_

Stan frowned, though he couldn’t tell why the message bothered him. Maybe it was because of how vague Wendy was being, like she wanted him to ask just to make him feel stupid. Maybe it was just how she seemed to care so much. Stan didn’t have any theories. He still had no idea what was going on.

Still, he sent a text agreeing to meet yet again with Wendy, more just to give himself a justification for going through the trouble of changing shirts. Might as well do something now he was dressed.

Wendy had asked to meet him at the library, which felt like a strange place to go for this kind of thing. Not to mention, he was sure the last time he went there was at least three years ago. Probably with Kyle, too. Not like he had any other reason to go.

The streets still felt empty and eerie as Stan set off after locking up, keeping his free hand in his pocket as he walked. Right now, something just felt wrong. Though, he couldn’t tell if that was just because he still had Kyle’s disappearance on his mind, and it was distorting everything around him. Would it still feel this way if he had no idea about everything? Probably not.

But he still couldn’t shake the feeling as he travelled up the main street, eyeing adults as they left shops, the ringing of bells disappearing as the doors shut behind them. Maybe it was one of those guys who had done something to Kyle. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

But maybe Wendy could.

This time, Wendy arrived before him, back in her skirt as she scrolled through her phone with her bag hanging off her shoulder. Definitely looked like the type of person that should be at a library, unlike him. Maybe people would think they were study buddies, or something. If anyone even cared.

“Hello again,” she greeted him before he got chance to, slipping her phone into her jacket pocket as he approached. “You’re getting better at waking up before noon.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“It’s a good thing,” Wendy said, turning as she pulled something out of her bag. Stan recognised it quickly enough as a library card, and hoped he wouldn’t need one too. “Even though I guess it’s not under great circumstances.”

“It’s been four days now,” Stan felt the need to say, hurrying after Wendy as she slid her card through the reader outside, the door swinging open with a crack. “Four days and nobody’s seen Kyle.”

“It’s long, but not unreasonable.” Wendy gave a quick smile to greet someone over at the desk, and Stan kept his eyes down to ignore any of the ‘and who the fuck is the other kid’ stares that might be directed at him.

“Do you think he’ll like, come back before school or something?” Stan said, following her over to a small table at the back, nestled amongst shelves of books. “Imagine if he just went on holiday or something. What a dick move.”

“And the broken window?” Wendy asked, pulling a slim laptop out of bag. Stan stared, starting to feel as if he really was just on a study date. It would honestly be kind of preferable over discussing possible Kyle-death-scenarios.

“Maybe that’s like...not even related,” Stan mumbled, watching Wendy’s laptop boot up, before glancing at the table. “Maybe it was an accident or something.”

“It’s a possibility, but a bit of a stretch for a coincidence.” Wendy typed in her password, then quickly got to work opening up files.

“Well, yeah, I’m not being serious,” Stan muttered. “I don’t even know what’s going on. Can’t you tell? It’s like I told you. I’m an idiot. I don’t know anything helpful.”

Wendy lifted an eyebrow. “What’s with the sudden pessimism?”

“I don’t know, maybe because it’s been four days since my best- since Kyle was seen by anyone,” Stan said lowly, eyes trained on the table. There was a faint outline of intelligible graffiti, maybe years old. Stan wouldn’t be surprised if he or one of the others wrote it back when they were kids. “I don’t get why you care so much anyway. Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“What’s weird?”

“You,” he accused, glancing at her. “Maybe- maybe you did something, and you’re doing all this to try and make yourself seem innocent.”

Wendy rolled her eyes, then turned her gaze back to her screen. “I hope you realise how ridiculous you sound right now.”

He did, but that didn’t do much to stem his irritation. “If it’s not that, maybe you’re just like- obsessed with Kyle or something.”

“I already told you, I’m doing this because I have no faith in our police force, and I’m curious,” Wendy said, and paused before she looked at him again, back to her calculative stare. “...Are you jealous?”

“Jealous of who?” Stan retorted, and felt somehow more annoyed when Wendy didn’t reply, instead sliding her laptop over to him. Part of his irritation quickly faded when he realised he was looking at a page of bullet-pointed notes, the blue font of hyperlinks pinned underneath a few of them.

“It isn’t much, yet,” Wendy said. Stan definitely disagreed. “Most of it is just stuff we’ve talked about. I don’t suppose you have anything to add?”

“No,” Stan said, shaking his head. “So...what are your theories?”

“Well, I hate to sound obvious,” Wendy started, turning her laptop back. “But my first thought _is_ Cartman.”

“Well, yeah. You’d be kind of crazy if it wasn’t.”

“It wouldn’t be out of place for him to terrorise Kyle, and they already have a history of fighting,” Wendy said, scrolling through her notes and zooming in a little. “Anything could’ve happened, really. Maybe they had an argument at Kyle’s house, and the window got broken inadvertently. Or maybe that part was on purpose, I don’t know. I can’t claim to understand every working of Eric Cartman’s mind, and honestly I don’t think I would want to.”

“Doesn’t that seem straightforward, then?” Stan asked, frowning. “Cartman tries to fuck up Kyle’s life just like any other day, and it’s solved.”

“It isn’t solved until Kyle is actually found,” Wendy pointed out. “And that’s my issue. If Cartman did something to Kyle, then where is he? The police have searched the town, and incompetent as they are, they definitely know enough about South Park to consider all its nooks and crannies. Hiding a person isn’t that easy.”

“Yeah, but maybe he sent Kyle away some place further,” Stan suggested. “It wouldn’t be the first time he’s sent Kyle away to another city or whatever.”

Wendy hummed. “It’s possible, I won’t deny that, but if that was really the case, it wouldn’t be anything worth caring about. Amongst other things-“

“What are you talking about?” Stan cut in, feeling a spike of defensiveness. “Why wouldn’t anyone care?”

“Okay, people would care, but they just wouldn’t need to worry,” Wendy carried on, moving back to her screen as if reading the notes directly off it. “Cartman likes having a target. He likes taunting people who give him a strong reaction. Hence why he always goes after Kyle. I mean, you’ve known him just as long, but he doesn’t attack you as much, right?”

“Not...really.” More as of late, but Cartman was always taking chances to pick at Kyle, always there with comments throughout class, cutting in even when Stan was trying his hardest to shut out the world.

“As much as Cartman works to get rid of Kyle, he also works to keep him around. He’d get bored otherwise.” Wendy shrugged. “If it _is_ Cartman, there’s really nothing to worry about. He’ll bring him back once he tires of manipulating Butters. But I don’t know if Cartman would be this patient, especially without school going on right now. Does it usually take this long to be resolved?”

“I mean, sometimes,” Stan said, toying with the zipper of his jacket. “He can be patient if it’s to get what he wants.”

“But listen, Cartman needs to gloat. You would expect him to tell everyone in the school if he managed to make Kyle mysteriously disappear for four days. Especially you.”

“Why me?”

“You care most,” Wendy said simply, and Stan frowned, feeling just a little embarrassed that he couldn’t honestly deny it. “But he _hasn’t_ made any obvious posts about it, or made any group chats.”

“Unless it’s an accident,” Stan said, looking up. A panicked image flashed in his mind, some scenario of Cartman realising he’d gone too far, glass scattered on the floor, Kyle slumped over- “He doesn’t tell people if it’s an accident.”

“But he’s terrible at hiding things,” Wendy continued, shaking her head. “He can’t speak for five seconds without giving himself away.”

“I mean...I get what you mean, but I think it would be dumb to clear him completely just based on that,” Stan said after a moment. “It might just be what he wants you to think.”

“Of course,” Wendy said. “That’s why he’s still number one on my list. I just think as much as he likes to pretend, Cartman isn’t always one step ahead of the game. The longer Kyle is gone, the less likely it becomes he had anything to do with it.”

“What else do you have?” Stan asked, leaning over to glance through the rest of notes, trying and failing to hold onto reading a line whilst his mind was still so distracted. “Who else other than Cartman?”

“Less specific, but a different take,” Wendy said, scrolling down so quickly Stan couldn’t even attempt to read through. He wondered if it was on purpose. “If someone really did break in, then he might be in hiding. I know his mom said he didn’t mention any danger, but she also seemed to think you two were still talking, so I don’t think we can count on that as total fact.”

Stan kept quiet at that.

“The article mentioned that his room had damage to it,” Wendy carried on, breezing past his discomfort. “Kyle never kept a messy room, did he?”

“No. His mom always made him keep it clean. Even if he got angry and threw something, he always cleared it up before she could see. Well, and he sometimes got kind of paranoid about germs and stuff.”

“So we can’t deny the possibility that some kind of assault took place.”

“I- guess so.”

“And obviously, we still wouldn’t know where he’d go-“

“Unless he isn’t hiding,” Stan said, panic building. “Maybe he’s _been_ hidden.”

The thought was one that kept climbing to the top of his thoughts along with all the alarm and trepidation it brought, even as much as he didn’t want to think about that. Thinking that the police might’ve looked everywhere, but they couldn’t search all the rivers and filled in ditches, couldn’t search every locked closet and bathroom tub, couldn’t find bodies that weren’t even in one piece-

“Let’s move on from that,” Wendy said curtly, and Stan knew he’d probably been letting those thoughts show too much on his face. With a sharp movement, she dragged the document down to its end, before backtracking just a little to the previous page. “I guess this one’s less of a theory as to what happened, and more of thought on how to get more information.”

“What do you mean?” Stan said, still feeling a little shaken as he tried to force his mind back into ‘Kyle is alive’ territory. It had only been four days.

“Truthfully, I’ve only really spoken about this with you and some of my girl-friends,” Wendy said. “And most of them don’t really know anything about Kyle, considering he never dated any of them.”

“Is that really the only reason you talk to any of us?”

“That, or exes,” Wendy said, giving him a quick but sardonic smile. “I was thinking we should ask around some of the boys, to see if they know anything. You could help with that, right?”

“I guess.” Stan didn’t really speak to anyone in the town on a regular basis anymore, but it wasn’t like he’d straight up stopped interacting with everyone ever. Craig’s gang in particular had never given a shit about him anyway, and that hadn’t increased or decreased over the years. “I...can speak to Cartman, if you really want, but I doubt he’ll tell me anything.”

“That’s a good start,” Wendy said, clicking mid-line and starting to type. “I can ask Bebe if she remembers anything else from the party, as well as some of the other boys. I’m confident Tweek will agree to speak with me, and maybe I can ask Nichole and Bebe to rope in Token and Clyde too, but everyone else, you’ll have to deal with.”

“You’re basically taking all the ones who aren’t psychopaths,” Stan said, shoulders slumping and wincing as his arm knocked against the table. Wendy just shrugged.

“There’s a reason we stay in touch with some and not others.”

“Does that mean you don’t think of me as crazy?” Stan asked suddenly, lifting his head slightly.

“Well, _I_ definitely don’t,” Wendy said, and Stan deflated a little, not sure if he liked the implications of that answer. “Though actually, I was thinking that even though we’ve been speaking a lot, I still haven’t actually asked you that much about things specifically.”

“Mostly because I don’t remember,” Stan muttered, glancing back down to the table as a familiar discomfort abruptly overtook him.

“But that’s the thing,” Wendy said, and Stan watched from the corner of his eye as she finally scrolled to the end of the document. “I was thinking- what if you know something more? And you just- don’t remember.”

“It probably wouldn’t be anything good, in that case.”

“Like I said before, it helps to consider even the smallest details. What about Sunday? You still don’t remember?”

“Not really.” Stan shifted, and his arm throbbed again. “Only boring stuff like waking up, eating.”

“That’s really all you remember? From the whole day?”

“I woke up at like, five, so. Yeah.”

“That seems pretty early.”

“I meant in the afternoon.”

“Wow.” Wendy raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you were even lucid enough to speak to me on Monday.”

“Yeah, well. Exactly. I was pretty out of it after the party.”

“And you don’t remember anything from then either?” Wendy paused. “Other than you and Kyle fighting.”

“I got really drunk.”

“I can believe that,” Wendy said, and Stan was sure he could hear the threads of judgment woven into her voice. Not that it surprised him. “Maybe this is an obvious question, but you haven’t tried calling Kyle at all since he went missing, have you?”

“I-...no.” The confession felt stupid even as he said it, and knew it probably made him look like even more of a shitty person. Without looking to see Wendy’s expression, he hastily added, “I didn’t really think he’d answer to me anyway.”

“Can you try now?”

It wasn’t the reprimanding he’d been expecting, and Stan glanced up, seeing nothing but focused curiosity in Wendy’s stare.

“Calling him?”

“You never know.”

“I- sure, I guess.” Stan fumbled for his phone, placing it down on the table to make it easier for his left hand to navigate. He clicked on Kyle’s name in his contacts, hesitating slightly as his finger hovered over the call button. What if he _actually_ picked up? God, he’d feel so fucking stupid, but also so relieved. Suddenly not calling sooner seemed like the dumbest thing he’d ever done.

“Wait,” Wendy commanded suddenly, and Stan recoiled his hand, ready for the scolding he’d been waiting for. “You called him on Sunday night?”

Stan stared down at the phone, and saw it clearly at the top. Last Monday, 01:17am. Fuck. He’d forgotten about that. “It was a- pocket dial. I didn’t mean to.”

“It said it lasted sixteen seconds,” Wendy said, staring down at the screen. “So I guess it at least rang?”

“Yeah, uh. I didn’t realise I’d even done it until I heard the voicemail thing start.”

“But it still rang.”

“...I guess?” His heart hammered in his chest as he was sure Wendy saw straight through him, sensing all the bad and embarrassing things about him just from that phone call. He couldn’t even meet her gaze as the silence dragged out for way too many agonizing seconds. Under his sling, his arm panged again, and he wondered if the painkillers had started to wear off.

“Ring again now,” Wendy urged. Stan swallowed, then nodded, not wanting to worsen whatever she was thinking about him right now. With a tremor, his finger jerked forwards to the call button, and they both stared at the phone in silence as the call screen popped up.

00:01. “ _The person you have called is not available right now. Please call back or leave a message-“_

“...I guess I expected that,” Stan muttered, ending the call and staring down at his phone in dismay, as if it was the sole reason to blame for Kyle not picking up.

“It would’ve been an interesting development,” Wendy said, unable to mask the hint of disappointment in her voice. “But, yeah. Not answering makes the most sense.”

“If he answered, I probably would’ve been kicked out the library,” Stan muttered.

“It didn’t ring this time, though. His phone must be off.”

“Or disconnected.”

“The message is different for that,” Wendy said, quickly seeming to regain her energy as she set off typing again. “So you rang at 1am on Sunday, and it rang, but no answer. This time, no ring. So at least at 1am, his phone was on.”

“He was probably just asleep or something,” Stan muttered. “It’s not like he usually turns it off at night or anything. I don’t think it really says much.”

“I think it says more than you think,” Wendy said, then stayed silent for a few seconds more as she finished typing. Stan could see the words as they appeared across the screen, the ‘Stan made call, 1:17am, rang no answer’ seeming to taunt him as it sat on the page, now apparently saved forever. “I think we’ve made good progress today.”

Stan really didn’t, but was caught between feeling hopeful and irritated to hear that Wendy had made some advancements on her theories. She gave a final click of CTRL+S before shutting the lid of her laptop, sliding it easily back into her bag. Stan wasn’t sure if that was really the best stopping point, but it seemed she was finished with their discussion.

“Try to talk to the others, when you get the chance,” Wendy said, securing the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “If worst comes to worst, you can always speak to them when school starts again.”

“There’s no way it’ll last that long.”

“I said if worst comes to worst.” She stood up, and Stan forced himself to follow. The quick change in position made the ache in his arm spiral up to his shoulder and along his wrist, and he made a mental note to start tracking when he took the painkillers to make sure they didn’t have long to wear off. “There’s no point in meeting again until we have new information, so I guess for now, no further plans.”

“Okay.” Not meeting up with Wendy after four days in a row would be a nice break, at least, though Stan was pretty sure it wouldn’t stop his anxiety. In fact, it might even be worse, since then he couldn’t fool himself into thinking he was at least helping. “I’ll...call you when I speak to the others, then.”

“Let’s hope this is over soon,” Wendy said, and Stan just nodded.

-

He didn’t bother to try and get in contact with anyone from his class, heading straight home from the library and holing himself up in his room. The painkillers made him just a little drowsy, only to the level that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if he was doing literally anything else but nothing, but even still he couldn’t find the energy to do much for the next few hours.

The conversation with Wendy lingered on his mind even as Stan tried his best to distract himself with brainless videos calling out fake drama whilst playing games on his phone, feeling bored as he waited for his virtual energy to refill, card long removed from the app store. It wasn’t until the series of videos he’d been watching about a controversy he didn’t really care about ended did his mind fully drift back to focus on the day.

It was weird that Wendy had a list of theories, and it was weird that it was so long. He could confidently agree with himself on that. It wasn’t like Kyle was her boyfriend or anything. Which was- an unnerving thought, but it wasn’t true, so it didn’t matter. Even still, Stan couldn’t help but feel kind of inadequate. If she had a list, and he didn’t, that was kind of like she cared more. Which was no way true.

Pushing off a collection of cans from his desk, Stan found his nearly untouched notebook and tore out a page, scrambling for a pen that had fallen on the floor. It wasn’t like Wendy was the only one who could make lists.

People who hurt Kyle maybe

\- Cartman  
It’s normally him and he hates Kyle  
Maybe something happened at the party?

[X] Wendy doesn’t think so  
[X] Cartman likes to have Kyle around to rip on  
[X] Too obvious?

\- A Canadian  
Didn’t Kyle once have beef with them (did I dream that)  
Ike isn’t worried, maybe he can sense it

[X] Not sure if Canadians do that kinda thing, should ask Ike

\- Someone we don’t even know  
Bad people exist

[X] Kind of boring in theory

...

...Well, it was a start.

Stan frowned, trying to think of anyone else he knew who might have it out for Kyle, but it was hard. Most of his memories were based around when they were younger, and he was pretty sure there was a reason for every person in town to hate all of them for stuff they’d done back then. And even people outside of town. So it was pretty hard to make a list for just that.

He was still trying to wrack his brains when the familiar buzzing of his phone caught his attention, vibrating against the desk. For a wild moment he wondered if it might be Kyle, seeing his missed call and ringing him from wherever he was, but then he caught glance of Wendy’s name and felt his mood drop. Why was she ringing him again? They’d already met up today. They’d said they weren’t going to meet up again. God, girls were still so clingy.

“Wendy?” Stan said as he picked up. “Isn’t it kind of late?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she said, and her voice sounded somewhat rushed, distracted. Stan suddenly felt his irritation fade into nerves. “It’s just- can you come to Craig’s house right now?”

“Craig’s house? Why?”

“I’m not sure, it’s just- strange.”

“You’re kind of freaking me out, dude,” Stan said, frowning as he stood up, only a dull twinge in his arm this time.

“It might be important,” Wendy said. “I think you should come, Stan. Just in case?”

“Okay, sure, sure,” he said, already heading out his room. “I’ll be five minutes, I’m leaving now.”

His parents were still downstairs watching TV, but Stan didn’t pay them any mind, hurrying past without a word and not telling when they didn’t ask. It was cold outside, and Stan made a half-hearted fumble at doing up his zip with one hand, before giving up and leaving it, setting off down the block with the cold wind cutting through his shirt. It was a near straight path to Craig’s house, and Stan could see the reason that Wendy had called him before he was even halfway there.

The bright red and blue flash of the lights stood out in the darkness, and Stan felt himself slowing down as he saw them, heart rate picking up all at once. A police car outside Craig’s house, casually parked up on the side as if it was just another resident, just a visit from a neighbour. Except it shouldn’t have been there. It really shouldn’t have been there.

His thoughts were already going wild by the time he’d reached the door, deep down a hole of how Craig had even managed to kill Kyle when half the time he was too lazy to even participate in gym class, before he saw Wendy standing there, staring in concern at the house.

“Why is-“ he started, but she quickly cut him off.

“I still don’t know for sure,” she said. “I only heard rumours-“

“Rumours-?”

“It’s not a rumour if it’s _true_ ,” a new voice interrupted suddenly, and the two of them turned, Stan’s mood further souring when he saw Cartman standing just up the road, smirking at them. The lights of the police car bounced off his face, silent and threatening. “Two dead kids in a week has gotta be a new record.”

“What-”

“Nobody is saying anyone died,” Wendy said, narrowing her eyes. “And how would _you_ know anyway?”

“ _God_ , Wendy, everyone is talking about it,” Cartman said, rolling his eyes as he took another step forwards. His eyes flickered to Stan. “Guess they’re not just going after Jews anymore.”

“Tell us,” Stan demanded, knowing he was definitely failing not to look panicked or upset in front of Cartman. “What happened?”

“I would’ve thought a nosy bitch like you would’ve already known,” Cartman said, turning his attention to Wendy. “Nobody’s seen Craig since yesterday night. Guess he must’ve pissed off the same guy Kyle did.”

“You mean _you_?” Stan snapped, taking a step forward.

“Sadly, I can’t take credit for this one,” Cartman said, the fat around his neck jiggling as he shook his head. “Some asshole got to Kyle before I could.”

“Like I’d fucking believe that.”

“What do you mean, nobody has seen Craig?” Wendy asked, stepping beside Stan. “Who told you?”

“I just have my ways-“

“What, do you have Butters snooping around the police station window to listen for calls coming in?” Wendy asked, and Cartman flinched, scowling.

“Uh, no, because Butters is a lameass and I don’t need his help for this kind of shit!” he yelled, then reared back. “God, Stan, I didn’t think you’d sunk low enough to hang around with your old stuck-up dog again.”

“His parents haven’t seen him?” Wendy asked, still sounding admirably in control despite the numerous jabs.

“ _Nobody’s_ seen him, god, I just said, you dumb bitch.” Cartman shook his head again, glancing at Stan. “Seriously, Stan? This is the best you could do?”

“Are you sure?” she tried again, and Stan glanced around, gaze moving from the light of the police car to Craig’s house, and the light seeping out through the closed curtains. Glanced up to Craig’s window, dark.

“Check online, they’re bound to post about it soon,” Cartman said, shrugging, before sending a sneer towards the house. “Two gone already. Wonder who’s gonna be next, huh?”

“Shut up, Cartman,” Stan said, a terrible feeling building up inside him. “Shut up.”

“It’ll be okay, Stan,” Wendy said softly, turning her attention fully to him. “It’s just Cartman. Don’t listen.”

“Jesus, Wendy, if you’re gonna suck him off, at least wait ‘til you’re off the street. Unless this is the only place you know how.”

“Let’s go,” she muttered, shaking her head and grabbing Stan’s good arm, dragging him away from the house. Stan wanted to stay, just to see if it was true, if Craig really had disappeared too, but the bad feeling was already starting to eat him up. Not because Cartman was annoying and obnoxious – he was always like that, and Stan had long grown accustomed to it. Not because of that, but instead because when Cartman had been asking who was next, he had had just a glint of fear in his eyes. The look of someone who didn’t know. The look of someone just as vulnerable as all the rest of them.

Wendy was right. It wasn’t Cartman. And the other options- the second theory-

“I’ll keep an eye on the news,” Wendy said quietly once they were further away from the house. “See if it’s true.”

Stan just nodded numbly, knowing he was going to be up all night refreshing pages again and again and again.

And by half eleven, a post finally appeared on Craig’s mom’s account. Stan skimmed, but it told him enough. _‘Hasn’t been seen since 11pm, Wednesday, anyone who might know please contact us, we just want our baby home’_.

Stan stood up, scrunched up the stupid piece of paper laying on his desk, and threw it straight into the trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imagine disappearing from a fic before uve even shown up in it lmao >>


	6. 22nd april, friday

**april 22nd, friday**

Stan didn’t get much sleep.

Sometime around three in the morning, he’d been tempted to go raid his dad’s stuff from the fridge, and only held back from the urge at the thought of passing out and missing an important update. But the post stayed the same, probably put up too late to get much attention, though it had still been littered with stray hearts and sad face emojis. This was probably the most Stan had been on Facebook in ten years, and he hoped it wouldn’t make his phone think he was interested again.

More importantly- someone else had gone missing. Not just someone else, but someone from his school, his class. Craig Tucker, of all people. And Craig wasn’t the type of person to get involved in this stuff. Wasn’t the type to get involved in _anything_. He avoided it as much as possible. So- if someone like him had disappeared too...

Stan squeezed his eyes shut. Again, he didn’t want to think about that. It could still be okay. Maybe today was finally going to be the day it all changed, and they found Kyle, and things went back to normal. Except now it wasn’t just about Kyle, it was Craig too. How long before half the town had been taken hostage and sliced up into fifty pieces each??

Definitely, Stan had had better nights.

The painkillers helped him to drift off into brief waves of sleep, waking up every hour or so and rechecking the news, and Facebook, and wherever else he could find. Not enough people were talking about it, and Stan distantly found himself wondering why Craig’s family had waited until so late to report his disappearance, despite not having been seen for twenty-four hours, _despite_ someone else in the town already being gone. The whole thing just seemed- so fucked up.

Somewhere around the hour of the sun creating a thin orange strip across the sky, Stan’s phone rang. His mind was still in a state of half-sleep, but the sound of the buzzing made him sit up, lucidity flooding back to him all at once. Wendy’s name lit up the screen.

“Wendy-?” Stan answered, voice coming less groggy than he expected.

“Stan,” she said, then paused for a moment. “Sorry to ring you again at a bad time, but- if you can, I think you should come here.”

Compared to yesterday, Wendy’s tone was a lot slower, filled with a sense of finality rather than panic. Maybe it should have been more calming to hear, but instead Stan felt a solid lump of dread flatten itself into his chest.

“I can come, I wasn’t really asleep,” Stan said, pulling himself up and attempting to flatten his hair with his forearm, phone still in hand. “Where are you?”

“The bridge,” Wendy said, and Stan stopped, the uncertainty spinning into a cold and quiet horror, travelling along his bones. “You know the one just before the main road?”

“I know it.” Stan forced himself to move again, trying to balance his phone on his shoulder before giving up, putting it back to his ear. “I need to hang up, I- can’t really get my coat. Like, ‘cause of my arm-“

“It’s okay,” Wendy cut him off, then paused. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Is it bad?” Stan asked then, unable to stop himself. “I wanna know before I get there.”

“I haven’t...spoken to anyone yet,” Wendy said. “But it might not be good. I’m still waiting.”

“Oh god,” Stan said, pressing his eyes shut again. “Can you like- call me again if anything happens? I don’t wanna get there and puke.”

“I’ll tell you.”

“Okay.” Stan swallowed. “See you.”

After hanging up his phone, he finally had the spare hand to shrug his coat on over the same clothes he’d been wearing yesterday, hoping that Wendy wouldn’t notice, before realising that she probably wouldn’t care with everything going on. Not that he even knew what that was. Not that he _wanted_ to know. Oh god, why did she have to tell him to meet there. Of all places.

Stan zipped his sling up inside his coat, leaving the empty arm dangling again, before turning to leave. Luckily, it was still too early for his parents to be awake, and he slipped out unnoticed, into the early morning air.

It was never really his thing to wake up early; even school days were a pain, forcing him out of bed before the sun had even risen, some days. There were a few times he’d been out this early not for school related purposes though. Mostly with the others, when part of some scheme that had be done before anyone else was awake. Stan could remember some distant memory of being out in the early morning, with the snow and empty streets, feeling like he was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, all the others along with him. Hands shoved in his pockets, nose red, Kyle by his side.

But there wasn’t any snow right now. It was just empty. He was alone.

Stan had tried to mentally prepare himself for whatever he was going to find, but it was still a hard knock to the stomach when he saw the bright yellow tape surrounding the area around the bridge, police cars parked by the road. Officers were walking around, geared up with waterproofs. And for maybe the first time in his life, even the sight of the police dogs just made him feel worse.

Wendy was waiting similarly to how she’d been the day before, silently studying the scene with a hard expression, hair tucked into her scarf. Her eyes only momentarily flickered to Stan as he came up beside her.

“Who-“

Wendy cut him off before he could even start. “They’ve been searching for Craig.”

Stan couldn’t tell exactly how that made him feel. Maybe relieved, because it wasn’t the end for Kyle, but then also kind of terrified, because it was still bad if it was Craig. And- being here-

“I heard the cars outside early this morning,” Wendy said, and Stan just stared down at the water, watching a man wade around the river. “I wasn’t sure if it was anything serious, but I came anyway, just in case...I’ve been here a while.”

“They...” Stan could hardly even say it. He was still trying to force his mind to think it.

Wendy shook her head. Her eyes were very slightly narrowed as she watched. “His hat was in the water.”

“You think he- killed himself?”

“I don’t know that. Maybe, if they find a body, but it’s just a hat, and I don’t think...”

Stan stopped listening, a high pitched noise filling his head as soon as he heard the phrase ‘find a body’. It suddenly all felt like too much, and he had to turn away, unable to make his eyes focus on anything, the sun a blur in the distance.

Wasn’t this, like- way too serious?? It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything that happened, normally, there was that feeling that it wasn’t too bad, that things could always go back to normal. But it didn’t feel like that now. It was too early in the morning for this to be a joke, for it to all be fake.

He suddenly had a sick feeling that maybe he and Wendy had been taking this too lightly. This wasn’t stuff for them to get involved in. Just a hat, sure, but wasn’t that enough? Like- like there’d be any reason to fish someone’s clothes out a river unless they’d thrown themselves in. Or someone _else_ threw them in.

Maybe it was just a matter of time before they dragged out Kyle’s hat too. And then- after that-

“Are you okay?” Wendy asked quietly, and the following hand on his shoulder spooked him away from his thoughts. “I know it seems scary, but we can’t panic too much until they actually find the body-“

“’The body’?” Stan echoed weakly, gripping a hand against his head.

“I’m not saying there _is_ one, I’m just saying if there is, they haven’t found it yet. Which means there’s no way to confirm anything.”

“You said they found his hat in the water,” Stan said, shaking his head. “Why the fuck would it be in there if Craig isn’t too??”

“Lots of reasons-“

“Wendy, we can’t keep doing this.” Stan stared up at her, agitated by her still collected expression when he felt moments away from falling apart. “This is like- _serious_ , dude! People are going missing, people might be dead, it’s just- what the fuck are _we_ supposed to do?”

“I understand how you feel. I agree, this seems more complicated than I first assumed. But doesn’t this mean I was right? This isn’t just simple Cartman stuff. Something really is happening. It’s just- going to require a new angle.”

Stan shook his head, unable to find the words. It didn’t seem to deter Wendy any.

“Think about it. What’s the first rule of any horror movie? You don’t see the death on screen, they’re not dead. This is the same thing. You can’t prove anything without a body.”

“Yeah, except this is real life.”

“The point still stands,” Wendy said firmly. “You’re free to give up on this if you want, but I’m going to keep looking into things. I don’t think this means it’s over.”

Stan glanced behind him, taking in the uneasy sight of the river. For a moment he was still, watching, waiting for someone to call out that they’d found the rest of Craig, or something else, or someone else. But they just kept trudging through the water, walking up and down the areas nearby, dogs sniffing but not straining against their leads.

“...This feels like we’re just being stupid,” Stan muttered.

“Maybe.” Wendy readjusted herself, crossing her arms. “Anyway, I think now we definitely need to try to speak to Craig’s friends. There must be so much going on amongst them right now.”

“Talk to them before they disappear too?” Stan raised an eyebrow.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Wendy, no offence, but you sound kind of crazy right now.” Stan frowned at her. “I seriously think you should leave this to the police before someone kidnaps or kills you too.”

“I won’t get scared off looking for the truth,” Wendy responded firmly, the most confidence he’d heard in her voice since he arrived. “And this gives me so much more to work with.”

“What if they’re not even related?” Stan asked, voice feeling weak. “I mean...what if it was just some fucked up coincidence that Craig decided to kill himself at the same time of all of this?”

“I don’t think it was suicide. That leads to too many questions.”

“Yeah, well. Sometimes you don’t expect it.”

“True, but I just don’t feel like that was the case here.” Wendy glanced at him. “ _And_ , once again, there’s no point getting bogged down in death theories with no evidence.”

“Okay, I get it, say he’s not dead, whatever. What’s your plan now?”

“Get more organised,” Wendy replied quickly, as if she’d already planned it all out and was just waiting for Stan to ask. She probably had, honestly. “I doubt this is going to end over the weekend, so I’m making a plan to speak to everyone once school starts back up again. I want to get information from as many people as I can. For now, I’m going to wait here and see if anything changes, and hopefully get a chance to speak to the police.”

“See? You don’t even need me.”

“I still need you for the reason that I did to begin with,” Wendy countered instantly. “You know things that I don’t, and you can speak to the boys I don’t know enough to get anything out of. That, and I know you want to know the answer too.”

“I...I mean, you can just tell me, when you figure it out.”

“Would that really be enough?” Wendy’s stare seemed to cut through him. “You’d really be fine with that?”

“I- I don’t know. Maybe?” Stan fidgeted with his empty sleeve. “I just...don’t think it’s a good idea to get involved.”

“We’re already involved, Stan.”

“God, I know, just- fuck. Can’t you give me some time?” The sound of the water felt too loud, as if his head was surrounded by it. “This is just- a little too much right now, dude.”

“...Fine.” Wendy sighed, and he couldn’t ignore her disappointment this time. “Just let me know.”

“Yeah.” Stan felt like it was a good time to leave, but wasn’t sure if he should. What if they really did find something else in the river? He should probably be there for that, but, then again...he wasn’t sure if he could stomach seeing anything worse than a stray hat. “...See you around.”

Wendy just nodded at him, and he felt, for just a fleeting moment, glad that they weren’t dating anymore. He hated these kinds of arguments, where he did the wrong thing just by not being as strong-willed as everyone wanted him to be. At least now he could have Wendy be mad at him and not feel like it was some definite duty he had to make up with her. It was different when he and Kyle had argued. Instead he wanted to make up just because he was sad, because he didn’t like Kyle being mad at him.

Honestly, there were a lot of things he needed to apologise for.

Leaving Wendy to keep watch on the area, Stan turned back down the empty streets, keeping his eyes on the ground. The walk back felt a lot longer, memories of the water fresh on his mind. It was a place with bad vibes. Just being there for a few minutes was enough to put him on edge.

His thoughts were still distracted when he pushed open his door, to the point he hardly even noticed his mom in the kitchen, leaning out the doorway to watch him as he stepped in.

“Good morning, Stanley,” she said, the surprise clear in his voice, and Stan couldn’t help but cringe a little, knowing how weird it looked for him to be getting home at a time like this. “You’re- up early.”

“Yeah, I was just-“ Stan fumbled for what was definitely too long. “...Taking a walk?”

“Forget that school’s still out?” his mom asked, obviously trying to lay a joke over the concern in her voice.

“No, it’s just...” What was he supposed to say? Tell her he’d been out watching the police comb the river for his friends’ bodies? Probably she’d hear about it later anyway, but...

“I won’t ask,” his mom said then, shaking her head. “But I said before, I really don’t like you staying out all night, especially with- so much... _going on_ , right now.”

“I wasn’t out all night,” Stan said, for the first time honestly. “Really, I only left like thirty minutes ago.”

“I’m just saying, Stanley. I don’t want your name flashing up anywhere on those Facebook pages.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out. “I know. Sorry.”

So many apologies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this and the next two chapters are pretty simple and short, so i'm gonna upload them close together ^^  
> stay tuned!!


	7. 23rd april, saturday

**april 23rd, saturday**

Not much had changed since yesterday. Stan wasn’t entirely sure whether that was a bad or a good thing, but it wasn’t like he had any say over it anyway. Looking at it on his computer, the Facebook post was still up, unchanged and unedited, though there were a few more recent comments with things like ‘so sorry to hear the news’. Stan noted Craig’s mom had yet to reply to any.

Forcing himself to minimise the collection of tabs dedicated to keeping track of the news and everything else, Stan scrolled through his computer’s game library, trying to find something to distract his mind. Not that it was really working. Focusing on anything else right now seemed near impossible.

“Oh, and I’m sure you know _everything_ , right?!”

Though apparently his parents were trying their best, Stan thought bitterly as he grabbed his headphones, moving straight to his loudest playlist. Even though he’d long stopped getting upset about it, it was still so grating to listen to. Now especially, considering there was so much else going on. God. Assholes.

It was during a dip between songs that Stan finally hear the end of the argument, the ‘ _fine_ , Randy, spend your day _however_ you want, if it matters _that much_ to you’, and the sound of the door opening and shutting. He let out a sigh, lowering the volume of the music slightly. If he was lucky, his dad wouldn’t come back until much later.

Stan was hoping that that would be the end of it for today, and he could finally dedicate his full attention to the strategy game he’d dug out of his library, and not think about when he and Kyle used to play them together, when there was a knock on his door. He pressed his eyes shut, slipping his headphones off.

“Yeah?”

His mom stepped into his room, and Stan made an attempt to make it look like he was more absorbed in the game than he actually was. “I hope you didn’t hear any of that.”

“I had my headphones in, it's fine.”

“Well, still.” She lingered for a second, before starting to move around his room, picking up stray bits of laundry. “You doing anything today?”

“Not really.” He’d been thinking about calling Wendy, but still wasn’t sure he wanted to carry on digging into what was potentially dangerous stuff. Not that he cared what happened to him, but…

“How’s your arm? Still hurting?”

“I dunno. It’s getting better.”

“You’ll be going back to school soon,” his mom continued, like he’d somehow managed to forget the Monday looming just around the corner. It was terrifying to think of having to slip back into the norm whilst everything was still so messed up. The bullshit of the holidays was supposed to _stay_ in the holidays, and the same with school. Overlapping was- wrong. Against the rules. “If you want, we could go shopping to get some school supplies. Get lunch?”

“No, it’s okay,” Stan said, mind flickering back to his near blank notepad, one page torn out.

There was a moment of silence that only tripled his discomfort, before his mom came and stood next to his desk, forcing Stan to finally look away from his game, feeling guilty as he stared up at her, for some reason.

“Look, I know you’re upset with everything that’s been going on with Kyle,” she said, voice soft, and Stan bit his cheek. “But, I don’t know. I just thought it might be good to have something to take your mind off it for a bit. Just for an afternoon?”

Stan couldn’t help but wonder who it really was trying to take their mind off things, but just nodded, holding back a sigh. “Okay, fine.”

His mom smiled at him, though he couldn’t find it in him to smile back. “Okay, we’ll go after I put the dishes away. You wanna help?”

He didn’t, not really, but it wasn’t like he was really preoccupied with anything up here. “Sure.”

Just- an afternoon.

-

The mall was probably worst on Saturdays, too full of families and their screaming little kids, but Stan managed to survive two hours of his mom dragging him around, letting her buy yet more notepads and pens for the unutilized collection he had in his backpack. By the time they sat down for lunch, he felt like all the energy he’d had had been completely drained.

It didn’t feel right, in a way, to be going around like everything was the same as always. Two kids in their school had gone missing, but people were still here going about their shopping as normal, buying stupid shit they didn’t need. It seemed so- messed up.

“See, wasn’t this nice?” his mom asked, whilst Stan just kept picking at his sandwich. “You feel any better now?”

“I guess.”

“Once you’re back in school, it’ll feel alright again,” his mom carried on, and Stan frowned just a little. "Being in a regular schedule helps.”

“It’s not really regular if half the kids in my class are gonna be missing.”

“Only two so far, Stanley,” she said, then shook her head. “Well, I guess two is already too many, but...Oh, I don’t want to make a fuss. Hopefully it’ll all be over by Monday.”

_It won’t be,_ Stan wanted to say. _They found Craig’s hat in the river so it won’t be._ But there was no point, since his mom would probably just keep insisting it wasn’t that bad. Not really her fault, though. She cared more when he was a kid. Stan could relate in that regard, at least.

“Can you watch my bag for me?” his mom asked then, pulling herself up from her chair. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Stan nodded wordlessly, already pulling his phone out to refresh all the sites he kept up. A new comment on the Craig post, asking about the recent developments. Stan made a mental note to check back later to see if there was a reply. At least this one was a lot more active than the one for Kyle, which seemed to have been long forgotten. Well, he was first, Stan supposed. Nobody realised this was going to be an ongoing thing back then.

Stan was playing with the idea of texting Wendy to ask if she had anything new, before something caught his attention in the corner of his eyes. Or- someone. Walking fast, with their head down, but Stan still stood up, hurrying to catch up with them.

“Clyde-!” Stan called out, and the boy came to a stop, though he didn’t turn around, keeping his head down. “Clyde- do you know what happened to Craig? You guys were friends- wait-“

Stan rushed forwards to stop Clyde from walking away, catching sight of the bag left on the seat behind him, and momentarily thinking he should’ve brought it with him. He was fucked if he let someone take it.

“Do you know?” Stan asked, and Clyde just frowned, eyes down.

“Of course I know.”

“What-?”

“Just look at the news,” Clyde muttered. “They found his hat.”

“But is that really what happened?” Stan asked, more urgent this time. “Did it have anything to do with Kyle?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Clyde said, looking like he was about burst into tears before hurrying off again, leaving Stan standing alone. For a moment, he considered running after him, convinced there had to be something more. And hadn’t Wendy told him to talk to Clyde? Or was that her job? He’d already forgotten their plan.

But his mom would be pissed if he disappeared all of a sudden, or maybe even worried, and he couldn’t keep doing that, so he headed back to his table with a sigh, shoving his hand into his pocket. There were still so many people he needed to talk to, so many things he didn’t know. It was so frustrating.

Only half of today and tomorrow left, and then maybe he could finally start asking questions to the people he needed to ask. Even if it was out of his depths, he just- needed to know. Needed to clear up all the vagueness and mystery, because Wendy was right. The police weren’t doing enough. Nobody was doing enough.

He sent the text before he could regret it.

_Stan: Okay, fine. I’ll help._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this chapter is so short!!!! it just ended up like this somehow ;x; i guess it's just kind of a transition???  
> i'll add a longer chapter tomorrow to make it up for it haha;;; please wait until then!!


	8. 24th april, sunday

**april 24th, sunday**

_The disappearance of two boys from South Park is being treated as suspicious, according to local police sources._

_The first of the reports came in early last Sunday, after concerns were raised regarding a broken window at the house of Kyle Broflovski (17). Broflovski was last seen by family the morning of the prior day. A few days later, on Thursday, Broflovski's classmate, Craig Tucker (18) was also reported missing after not being seen for twenty-four hours. Police are warning families that the two incidences may be linked._

_"It's hard to say right now exactly what we're dealing with," Harrison Yates, head of the Park County Police, said in a recent interview. "Kids like that going missing in a little town like this – it doesn't seem right. Families need to be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, whether that be a stranger, a friend, or even themselves."_

_The statement came in after an item of one of the boy's clothes was found in a nearby river. Search teams continue to investigate the area._

_If you have any information about either cases, please contact us at..._

Stan compulsively closed the entire tab after scanning over the article again, annoyed that it hadn’t changed in the time it had taken him to get dressed and leave his house. It was nice they were still updating the story with each day, but the information remained almost the same each time. Just crawling millimetres with each day, if at all.

If he was honest, he kind of wanted to stop thinking about it so much. It felt like it was getting to the point of unhealthy obsession. What if Kyle never came back? Would he still be there in thirty years refreshing the news like it would offer him something new? God, honestly, he probably would. Stan shivered, and had a feeling it wasn’t just the chill of the morning breeze.

Speaking of unhealthy obsessions, even coming here was a bad idea. Stan could see the tape still up in the distance, yellow against the pale grey of the sky, though the amount of men was far less than it had been the other day. He had to force his eyes away from the water to stop himself thinking of things he really didn’t want to think about.

Stan had no idea what he’d expected to happen once he got there, no prior plan in place. Instead, he stopped on the other side of the tape, gaze lingering on the edge of the bridge.

“Oh, kid, it’s you.”

Stan jumped slightly, looking up to see a familiar figure moving towards him, dressed in a heavy black coat. With his orange hair, he was easy to recognise, and Stan felt just a hint of relief.

“Yates,” he said, adjusting his jacket. “You’re finally here.”

“Well, thought I’d come by for the last day of the search,” he said, looking towards the river with a frown.

“Last day?” Stan repeated, staring. “You’re giving up?”

“Not much choice, kid,” Yates said, turning back and sighing. “There’s nothing out here, and I can’t waste my men spending all day paddling around in an empty river.”

“Don’t you need to- check again?” The thought of the search ending with nothing solved was almost as bad a thought of it ending with _everything_ solved. “There must be areas you like, haven’t checked yet.”

“Scaled the whole thing at least ten times,” Yates said, shaking his head. “And we’ve checked every other place in this town. Wherever your buddies are, they’re nowhere around here.”

Could they really end the whole search, just like that? Maybe Kyle had been gone a while, but Craig had only been gone like, two days. Or, maybe it was three. If it was Sunday today, that was...oh fuck, four days? Had it already been that long? Stan swallowed.

“What...what are your theories?” he asked, daring another glance at the water.

“My theory?” Yates’ brows furrowed. “My theory is that we don’t have enough damn information.”

Stan groaned.

“No fingerprints, no DNA, no sightings, nothing. They might’ve well as just disappeared out of thin air.”

“But- Kyle’s room was all messed up,” Stan tried. “And Craig’s hat-“

“Roads aren’t any use if they don’t lead anywhere.” Yates turned to look at him head-on, and Stan couldn’t help but feel just a little intimated staring up at him, despite the absurdity of the sentence. As much as he was a familiar face, and maybe even a friend, he was still a high ranking officer, and maybe one of the most competent members. Not that the standards for that were very high, but still. “Heard you were taken down to the station last week.”

Something about the question made his discomfort worse. “Yeah? Wendy was too.”

“That girl came down by herself,” Yates said, raising an eyebrow at him. “You know, normally interviews are just done at the residence.”

“...So why was it different for me?”

“Well, if I’m honest, that wasn’t my order.”

Stan waited for Yates to continue, but was left with just that. It wasn’t an answer, and it stirred up the anxiety in Stan’s chest again, though he tried to block it out and not let himself focus on any of the hundreds of thoughts racing through his head.

“Heard you didn’t have much to say anyway,” Yates said, crossing his arms as he once again turned back to the bridge.

“Not...really.”

“Weren’t you and that Broflovski kid friends?”

“Things- changed.” A cold gust of wind brushed past his face, and he frowned, burying his free hand into his pocket. “What about Craig? Uh, Craig Tucker?”

“No signs either. Even less than Broflovski.”

“But you still think it was suspicious.”

“Suspicious as hell,” Yates said with something rough in his voice, pressing a hand against his temple. “Two local kids missing in one week, one still under eighteen. My ass is under serious fire right now.”

Stan paused for a moment. “You think it could be a kidnapping?”

“Could be. Could be something totally different. Maybe the kid just lost his hat on a walk out, and just decided to skip town. Maybe he got mauled by a bear, dragged off a hundred miles from here. Who knows.”

The tone of his voice was frustrated, but that wasn’t the only thing breaking into his voice. It was also a lack of hope, a lack of knowing where to go next. Sure, they were trying to find two missing kids, but they weren’t trying to find _Kyle and Craig_. The police didn’t know them the same way. Didn’t understand how things worked amongst them.

Wendy did. And Stan did too. As did all the other kids. Most of them had known each other their entire lives, and had seen and done stuff the adults had absolutely no idea about. For the first time, Stan was starting to feel like Wendy’s persistence wasn’t so useless after all.

“Good luck on your search, I guess,” Stan said, turning so that the river was only visible in his peripheral sight.

“Yeah,” Yates said in return, clearly distracted by something his men were doing over at the other side. “Stay safe kid.”

He let Yates get back to his officers, lingering for just a moment by the tape, and watching the yellow stripe flicker slightly in the wind. If the police were giving up, he should probably stop coming here too. It was- creepy being here, anyway.

The walk back from the river to his house was an easy one, one he could probably do in his sleep, but Stan swerved from the usual path, hoping it would help to also divert his mind.

Yesterday’s texts from Wendy were still on his phone, reminding him that they had to meet up again tomorrow. As much as Stan wanted to spend today doing nothing but drinking, the thoughts of dead bodies in rivers still far too fresh on his mind, he’d promised her he’d show up at school tomorrow, and was sure she’d be able to tell if he stumbled into class twenty minutes late and hungover.

Stan kept his head down as he walked through the town, still convinced that every person he passed was also thinking about the disappearances, even though they probably couldn’t care less. All he needed was a distraction to keep him from going home and letting himself dissolve, but that was kind of hard in South Park. As weird as the town might’ve been, there really wasn’t that much to do. Not without anyone else, anyway.

Coming to a stop at a red light at a crossing, Stan raised his head and caught sight of Tweak Bros across the street. Honestly, Stan didn’t really like the coffee there, though he hadn’t tried that much of it. As a kid, whenever Tweek was working there, he always managed to dissuade Stan into ordering something else, even though Tweek loved coffee himself. Stan was pretty sure he was trying to stop customers from ordering it so he could steal it all for himself.

Well, even if the coffee was weird, Stan could at least grab a cookie or something, and then spend time on his phone until they kicked him out. Just so long as he didn’t have to go back home. Anything was fine.

Both the bell and the muffled yelp were enough to alert Stan’s entrance to the shop, and he glanced over in surprise at Tweek standing over at the counter. The shop wasn’t busy and there was no queue, so Stan headed straight over towards him.

“Tweek-“

“What’re you doing here, ack??” Tweek questioned, narrowing his eyes as his body jittered. For less than a tenth of a second, his gaze darted to Stan’s arm, before focusing back to his face.

“Uh, ordering coffee?” Stan paused. “If you’re gonna let me.”

“Order whatever you’d like,” Tweek said, seeming to relax just a little as he straightened his back. “You can thank Kenny for that.”

Stan had no idea Kenny even liked coffee, but chose to focus on the more pressing matter here. “I didn’t think you would be working, honestly.”

“What? Why wouldn’t I?” Tweek twitched with just a hint of panic, and Stan wondered if he was really that blind to the obvious.

“I mean, with everything that’s been going on...”

“There’s customers here, so I have to be here.”

“But aren’t you upset?”

“Why would I be upset?” The fierceness in Tweek’s stare unsettled him slightly, and Stan glanced around to avoid it.

“Well...Craig’s kind of...”

“I don’t care about him,” Tweek huffed, voice steadier than Stan had ever heard before.

“You don’t care?” Stan had kind of been expecting Tweek to freak out at the mention of it, spewing out conspiracy theories and horror scenarios that could rival Stan’s, shivering and tearing out his hair. Instead, Tweek just looked...sort of pissed off.

“I don’t care,” Tweek repeated, grabbing a cloth from the side and furiously wiping down the laminated menu on the counter.

“That seems kinda cold, dude.”

“Like _I’m-_ “ Tweek cut himself off with a jerk of his head, momentarily pausing in his cleaning before his eyes flickered back up to Stan, still frowning. “Ngh, what coffee do you want?”

“I just wanted to ask about-“

“I’m working!” Tweek interrupted, and something about his tone held a finality that told Stan he wasn’t going to get any answers before getting kicked out. “I don’t, ngh, want to talk about this.”

“Another time?”

“Gah, no!! I don’t want to talk about it at all!!” Tweek snapped at him. “Are you gonna order or what??”

“...Just give me it black,” Stan said, sighing as he dug out the notes from his back pocket. At least Tweek looked a little less like he wanted to kill him at the request.

Maybe this was why Wendy had said she’d be the one to talk to Tweek. Not like he even had any reason to be so rude. They’d been friends once, right?? They were nice to him back then, weren’t they? Well, he couldn’t really remember, but still.

Something about Tweek not caring about Craig at all felt kind of- _off,_ to Stan. He wasn’t really sure how close they actually were, but they were at least in the same group. He knew that for sure. Clyde had been almost crying yesterday at the mention of Craig, whereas Tweek just looked irritated. Had Stan been wrong? He guessed it was possible that they actually hated each other, but. He just wasn’t sure.

It didn’t take long for Tweek to prepare his coffee, almost unnaturally fast as he worked. Stan was half-way through wondering if enough coffee could turn Tweek into some ultra-speedy superhero when the mug clinked against the counter, Tweek staring down at it.

“...Thanks,” Stan said, and Tweek just nodded. Something about the way his face was twitching made Stan think maybe there was something he wanted to say but didn’t, but then again, he was probably looking too closely into it. Trying to analyse _Tweek_ of all people’s facial expressions was a sure sign he was grasping at straws.

The lack of people made it easy for Stan to secure a corner table, allowing him to feel more like he was hiding away from the three other people seated around the café. He went to pull out his phone, but stopped when his fingers were curled around it, still in his pocket.

Was there any point in looking? The news wouldn’t have been updated. No new posts or comments on Facebook. The police had stopped looking. People in town didn’t care. Even _Tweek_ , who cared way too much about absolutely everything, didn’t care. Everyone was giving up.

At what point was he supposed to give up? He’d told Wendy he’d keep trying, but how long until she stopped trying too? Wendy didn’t care about Craig or Kyle that much. How long could she keep going with just a curiosity for the truth?

Stan stared into the darkness of the coffee, feeling a familiar wave of gloom settle in his stomach. The fear of never talking to Kyle again wasn’t anything new, but now it had a whole new meaning to it. It wasn’t as petty as it had been before. It could…really happen now.

With the drink still slightly too hot, Stan took a sip from the mug, feeling the bitterness against his tongue, making him shudder a little as he swallowed. Coffee was, honestly, still really gross. Stan was sure everyone else thought the same, and just drank it for the sake of looking mature and serious. Well, at least for him, it was like some weird punishment. Kind of worth it and not worth it all at the same time. Kyle used to call him pretentious for drinking it black all the time, and Stan would always snort at the hypocrisy of it. Like he had any right.

Stan was so caught up in the wistfulness of the memories that he almost didn’t realise that the tune he could hear was actually playing, and not just drifting around in his mind. It took a moment to grasp exactly what he was hearing, recognising the notes but not placing what it was until a few more seconds had passed. Stan’s hand tightened around the mug, and he swallowed.

A while ago, maybe two or three years, he’d played this song to Kyle in his room. It was something he’d always wanted to share, but always felt just a little too awkward. The lyrics always struck something deep in him, like a perfect description of his and Kyle’s friendship, and he wanted Kyle to hear that too, to understand exactly what he was thinking. Even if they weren’t directly from his mouth, they were basically his words. Every time he listened, he imagined playing it to Kyle, and seeing his reaction. Wondering if Stan would start to cry, like he always did when he listened and thought of Kyle.

 _“Actually,”_ he had said one day, sat at his computer whilst Kyle sat on his bed, legs crossed. _“I kind of wanted to show you this song.”_

 _“What song?”_ Kyle had asked, eyes bright with curiosity. Stan felt stupid for feeling nervous, considering they were so close and they knew far worse things about each other.

 _“It’s just- this song I think is kinda nice,”_ Stan said, then quickly added, _“It’s not weird.”_

A lot of his music taste he knew was kind of outside what would be considered mainstream or normal, and Kyle knew that too. That was why he never really shared any of the stuff he listened to with Kyle, since not everybody was that interested in ‘alternate’ music. But he’d listened to this song a thousand times and had always been sure it was normal enough to share. Normal enough that Kyle might like it.

 _“Sure, dude,”_ Kyle said, sitting up slightly. _“Lemme hear it.”_

 _“It kind of reminds me of- something you’d like,”_ Stan had said, swerving at the last second. Saying that it reminded him directly of their friendship was- too honest, somehow. Too embarrassing.

He had loaded it up, and then stared down at his phone whilst the intro began to play. And through the first lines, too, he kept trying to act as casual as possible, as if it wasn’t embarrassing. All the times he’d thought about it, he’d imagined himself crying or something equally as dramatic, but now he was just sat there, heart beating hard, unable to focus.

Even as the song moved onto the lines that cut the most, the ones Stan was sure just screamed ‘it’s us, it’s us’, he couldn’t find it in him to look up. Though, some part of him was sure that Kyle had been looking at him, the feeling of his stare on his back.

 _“It is a nice song, dude,”_ Kyle had said afterwards. _“Kind of sad.”_

 _“Yeah,”_ Stan said, turning back to his computer to close the tab, almost as if it had never happened. He couldn’t figure out at that time if Kyle had understood what he was trying to say. Still didn’t know all the years later, when they stopped talking, but the song still fit.

Stan stared down at his coffee, unable to focus. Why would that song be playing here?? It felt so strange to be hearing it out in public like this, almost like it was stalking him or something. Songs like this didn’t normally play in public. Not ones so- personal.

It wasn’t like he was actually going to cry in public, but Stan had to press his eyes shut as the most painful lines played, the memory with Kyle feeling like it was only yesterday. Remembering the things he was trying to say. Things he never knew if Kyle knew. His heart in his chest.

There was- there no way he could ever give up. Even if everyone else did. Stan never could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess it doesn't matter too much, but i kind of imagined landslide playing there at the end lol;;  
> it kills me most that they actually used that song in the show like ;;;;;; my heart;;;;;;;;;;  
> also, i realised whilst writing this fic that stan and tweek could actually be really good friends!! i'm def going to explore that dynamic in another fic ouo  
> and ofc, thank you again for reading!! ^^


	9. 25th april, monday

**april 25th, monday**

Going back to school felt just as weird as Stan had expected it to, mind torn between the usual routine of waiting at the bus stop and the unusual routine of refreshing the news to see if his best friend had been found dead yet. The homework he’d been given at the start of the holidays still sat in his bag, untouched, along with lunch from his mom. The silence of being stood alone at the edge of the road was uncanny. Almost creepy.

The feeling lingered as the bus came to a stop in front of him, doors opening up with a stiff clatter. This was also normal, but somehow the lack of anybody else boarding with him felt more apparent than it had on any other day. Like now it wasn’t just his choice to be alone. Kyle wasn’t there even if he wanted him to be.

As he stumbled down the aisle, Stan caught a glimpse of Wendy, sat already deeply engrossed in a conversation with Bebe. Despite all the time they’d spent together in the past week, he figured it would still seem weird to approach her in a school setting like this. Before Spring Break happened, they hadn’t been friends, so he supposed it only made sense if things stayed the same now. So like any other day, Stan took a seat near to the back, alone.

Or, alone for about thirty seconds.

“What’s up, dude?”

Kenny leaned over the back of his chair from the seat behind, thankfully sat next to Butters and not Cartman. He was busy on his phone anyway, not paying attention to either of them.

“’What’s up’?” Stan repeated, frowning at the question. As if it wasn’t already obvious.

“You seem bummed out,” Kenny said, then paused. “More than usual.”

“Yeah, well. Things are kind of shitty right now.”

“More than usual,” Kenny repeated in the same tone, the tease glinting his eyes. Stan turned back to the window. Normally that would be the end of it, but today Kenny was being annoyingly persistent, swatting a hand against his shoulder. “Sick sling, dude. What’d you do?”

“Don’t remember,” Stan said automatically, but the feel of Kenny’s steady gaze on him told him he wasn’t going to be able to get away with just that. “After the party, I got drunk again.”

“You’ve got a problem, dude,” Kenny said, though there was nothing condescending in his tone. A few more moments passed, before he spoke up again. His voice was as muffled as always, though Stan could easily make out his next words. “Kyle’s gonna be fine, dude.”

“How can you know?” Stan shot back, looking back at Kenny. “Nobody knows anything. Even the police have given up. Wendy’s the only one- I mean, just- people aren’t taking it seriously enough.”

“Nobody takes anything seriously around here.”

“But it’s _Kyle_ ,” Stan stressed, then quickly added, “And Craig.”

“Your focus is pretty set, huh.”

“Shut up, Kenny, don’t be an asshole right now.” Stan tried to cross his arms, then realised it wasn’t really doable with a sling, and just slunk down further into his seat instead. Quieter, he said, “You don’t even seem that worried.”

“I think it’ll be fine,” Kenny said lightly, and when Stan glanced back, he just shrugged. “Try not to worry too much, dude.”

Not knowing how to reply, Stan instead moved his gaze to Butters, who was still lost in his phone, a rare serious expression on his face.

“Checking the news?”

“Wuh- huh?” Butters jumped up, grip on his phone fumbling as his eyes darted up to meet Stan’s. “Oh, uh, yeah! It’s, uh, really somethin’, huh.”

“You shouldn’t check the news too much,” Kenny said, though his attention wasn’t on Butters. “It’ll drive you crazy.”

“I don’t check it that much,” Stan retorted, though he could tell that both of them knew it was a lie.

“Just try and stay calm,” Kenny said, then grinned. “The world hasn’t ended yet.”

“Fuck off, Kenny,” Stan muttered, not in the mood to deal with his friend’s constantly cryptic way of speaking. Luckily, this time Kenny gave up for good, letting him spend the rest of the journey staring aimlessly out the window. His hands itched to check the news again, but was sure if he did, Kenny would see. Even if he wasn’t judging him, it was still embarrassing.

-

Lessons started up just like always, and the lack of urgency in anything continued to grate at Stan. Teachers were as unsurprised as usual to not collect in his homework, but were also maybe a little less strict about it than they would’ve been. If that was the only difference he was going to get today, it was going to seriously piss him off. He couldn’t even tell if it was because of everything going on, or the sling on his arm he was unsuccessfully trying to hide beneath his jacket.

By the time lunch came around, Stan was considering just giving up and going back home, ready to act out his weekend plans just one day late. Wendy had been the one who asked him to come in today, but she hadn’t even spoken to him yet. Was it going to be an out of school thing only?? Then seriously, what was the point of him even being here?

Stan lingered by his locker, unsure if he had the energy to go into the cafeteria, which was bound to be as loud and obnoxious as ever. He could hardly get through it on days where he’d had a morning drink, so today was bound to be impossible.

Distantly, he found his eyes drifting over to Kyle’s locker from across the hall. If they looked in there, maybe they would find clues. Or maybe someone already had. Craig’s too? It seemed unlikely, somehow. Everyone was saying there wasn’t enough information, but there were still so many places that nobody had tried yet, so many ideas left unexplored.

“Stan,” a voice cut in from behind him, and Stan finally forced himself to close his locker, turning around. Wendy smiled easily, as if nobody would find it strange they were talking. Maybe they wouldn’t? “I’m glad you showed up.”

“Yeah, well.” Stan shrugged a shoulder. “You told me to.”

“If that was all it took to get through to you, then maybe we wouldn’t have broken up,” Wendy teased. Stan just rolled his eyes.

“Do I even need to be here? I can go home if nothing’s gonna happen.”

“You shouldn’t skip,” Wendy reprimanded, shaking her head. “And yes, you do need to be here, because this is our perfect chance to speak to Craig’s group all at once. They always sit together at lunch, right?”

“Yeah, usually outside.”

“Then you can take me there.”

“Don’t you have to like, eat with the other girls?” Stan glanced behind Wendy just to check that Bebe or anyone else wasn’t lurking and listening in.

“They know I’ve got business,” Wendy said easily, flipping her hair as if for emphasis. Stan was sure he was never really going to understand how things worked in the girl world. “And just so you know, I spoke to Bebe about Clyde, and she says he’s been so upset he’s hardly been talking to her.”

“Oh.” Stan wasn’t sure he cared that much about his classmate’s relationship problems.

“She said he was upset even before this happened though, so maybe it’s hitting him extra hard,” Wendy continued, then lowered her voice. “Apparently they had a fight at the party. Well, that’s what I’ve heard from the other girls. I guess you and Kyle weren’t the only ones with a lovers’ tiff.”

“Not funny.”

“It’s just a joke,” Wendy said, blinking at him before sighing. “Anyway, can you take me to the others? I feel like they’ll trust me more with you there.”

“Okay, sure,” Stan said, turning and setting off towards the side exit of the school. “Just don’t like, let the girls make any rumours about my arm, or whatever.”

“That is _not_ my call to make, these things are very complicated, there’s a whole process you have to go through in order to even be _considered_ -“

Seriously, never going to understand it.

Craig’s gang always seemed to work mostly on routines, with a kind of organised friendship that Stan couldn’t really imagine, with how chaotic things had always been for him. But it made it easy to track them down at school, sat in the same quiet corner of the yard that they had occupied since first year, no matter rain or snow.

It also meant it was pretty easy to sneak up on them from behind the path, which Stan was thankful for as soon as the two of them walked up, with Tweek instantly jumping up.

“I told you I didn’t wanna talk about it!!” he exclaimed, furious eyes on Stan, then relaxed slightly when he caught sight of Wendy. Which- kind of just made him feel like shit, honestly, but he’d let it slide for now.

“You two already spoke?” Wendy asked, raising an eyebrow as the rest of the group stared up at them, expressions guarded.

“I got coffee yesterday,” Stan explained quickly. “Nothing...really happened.”

“Did you need something?” Token asked as Tweek settled back down amongst the group, though his wary face remained, arm twitching at his side.

“Yeah, we’re kind of buh-busy, right now,” Jimmy added, glancing at Clyde, who instantly shoved a handful of chips into his mouth as if on cue.

“Would it be okay to sit with you for a few minutes?” Wendy asked, then nudged Stan slightly with her arm. He knew it was a request for input, but he honestly had no idea what to say. It already seemed pretty hopeless in his eyes.

“Now isn’t really a good time,” Token said, frowning. “We don’t really want to talk about- anything that happened over the break.”

“I know that it’s a painful time right now, but it’s really important that you speak to us. We need as much help as we can get. Not only about Craig, but for Kyle’s sake as well.”

Clyde scrunched his eyebrows together, leaning forwards slightly. “I-“

“If there’s anything you want to speak about, it’s probably best to talk individually,” Token said, already starting to pull himself to his feet. “You can start with me, I guess.”

“Thank you,” Wendy said with a relaxed smile, and Stan found himself wondering if he was even needed for this. Tweek clearly liked Wendy better, and she and Token used to date, so really, it was her that had all the best connections...

Token led them a short distance away from the group, moving behind one of the buildings so they were out of earshot. Then he released a breath, slumping slightly.

“Sorry, it’s just- I really don’t want to bring it up around Clyde again. He’s been really upset about this whole thing, so...” He shook his head. “Tweek too. I think if you want to talk to us, you’d be best to just stick to me or Jimmy.”

“I understand. It must be really hard for everyone right now,” Wendy said, voice dipped in sympathy.

“Tweek didn’t seem that upset,” Stan couldn’t help but say, cringing a little as the two quickly redirected their gazes towards him. God, it was bringing up uncomfortable feelings being in this kind of trio right now. “Just- when I spoke to him yesterday...he just seemed kind of...mad.”

“Well, people react to bad things in different ways,” Token said, raising an eyebrow.

“Would someone really say they didn’t care about someone if they did?” Stan asked, regretting the question as soon as he heard it leave his mouth, the pointedness of it jabbing at him.

“People can say things they don’t mean when they’re upset,” Wendy said, shaking her head before turning her attention back to Token. “Did you see Craig at all before he went missing?”

“Not...really.” Token almost looked a little regretful. “I guess the last time we all properly saw him was Clyde’s party, but even then, he was being kind of distant.”

“Isn’t Craig always distant?” Stan asked, and Wendy nudged him with her arm again, harder this time.

“I mean, he’ll at least stick with us most of the time, but that night he was spending a lot of time alone. Maybe he’d been fighting with his family? I know they have a few problems. Oh, not that I should say...”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ve heard rumours.” Wendy was already pulling out her phone again, and though Token looked a little puzzled, he didn’t ask.

“I didn’t hear any rumours,” Stan added, trying not to feel left out but also trying not to feel like he was inserting himself into the conversation without need. Which, he probably was.

“It’s part of a whole saga, it would take too long to explain,” Wendy said, waving a hand at him. “You just need to know Craig gets pissed at his dad at a lot. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.” Token frowned. “I don’t know if that has anything to do with it, but...”

“It’s definitely something to consider.” Wendy’s hands moved fast as she kept up a steady pace of typing into her phone. When Stan glanced over, there wasn’t even a single typo. Jesus. “And you don’t have any idea as to what might’ve happened in the time since then?”

“No,” Token said, then, with a slightly harder tone to his voice- “I really don’t understand that guy.”

“What about Kyle?” Stan asked then, and Token looked somewhat taken aback.

“Wouldn’t you know most about that?”

“No,” Stan said icily, suddenly feeling defensive. “Why would I know?”

“I mean, you hung out with him way more than any of us-“

“And you did for Craig as well, but you don’t know anything either.”

“ _Okay_ , I think that’s probably enough,” Wendy cut in, voice maybe just a little louder than necessary. “Thank you for helping us, Token. Think we could speak to Jimmy next?”

“Sure, I’ll go grab him for you,” Token said, thankfully turning away and disappearing around the corner. Instantly, Wendy’s fierce stare was on him.

“Why are you being rude? They’re helping us!”

“What, by throwing questions back at me?”

“I mean, he has a point! Nobody in this school was closer to Kyle than you.”

“That was a long time ago!” Stan snapped, unprepared for the way those words tore at his chest. His arm throbbed as he unconsciously clenched his fists. “Why does nobody understand that things change?”

“I think you’re the one who needs to understand what that means,” Wendy huffed, slipping her phone away as she crossed her arms. Stan clenched his jaw, but didn’t say anything else.

A few moments later, the sound of crutches clicking against the floor rounded the corner, and Jimmy appeared with his usually friendly face, though it looked a little dampened out. Actually, all of them had had that sombre look in their eye. Was that how Stan looked to everyone too? No wonder everyone was treating him like a headcase.

“Luh-long time no see, Stan,” Jimmy greeted, nodding at the two of them with the dip of his head. “You too, Wuhh-Wendy.”

“Same to you, Jimmy. How are you?”

“Well, I can say I’ve honestly been better,” he said with a small smile. “If you want to talk about Craig, though, I’m s-sorry, but I really don’t have much to sa-say.”

“That’s okay. Just anything you can help us with is better than nothing.”

“What did Token already tell you?”

“Just how Craig had been a little distant since the party,” Wendy said, pulling out her phone once again. “Had you seen him since then?”

“N-nope.” Jimmy pulled a face. “Duh-duh-distant is definitely the right word.”

“So I guess you don’t know too much either?” Wendy asked.

“I guess not,” Jimmy said. “But I hope Craig is okay.”

Wendy glanced up. “So you don’t think he’s dead?”

“Dude, Wendy, you can’t just say that,” Stan hissed, anxiously glancing towards Jimmy, who luckily didn’t seem too put-off by the comment.

“Just trying to keep a puh-puhh-positive attitude,” he said, then gave a small grin that didn’t reach very far. “But really, I don’t know where he is. I’m sure it’ll be okay. For Kyle, too.”

“You know anything about Kyle?” Stan asked, feeling a familiar twang of dismay when Jimmy shook his head.

“Sorry, total mystery.”

“Well, thanks for talking to us anyway,” Wendy said, and Stan knew the conversation was over with when she slid her phone back into her pocket, smiling politely. Again with the reporter aura. “If the other two feel up to talking at some point, please let me know.”

“Right.” Jimmy gave a firm nod, then smiled again. “Good luck with your inve-inve-inveehh-stigation.”

As soon as Jimmy left, Stan slumped back against the wall, heaving out a sigh. “That was pointless.”

Wendy frowned at him. “Hardly. We got a lot of good information from that.”

“Yeah, about _Craig_ ,” Stan muttered, keeping his eyes down.

“I know Kyle is the only one you care about,” Wendy started, and didn’t even give Stan a chance to protest. “But at this point, I’m almost certain that they have to be connected. There’s so much linking back to that party, too. Are you sure nothing big happened?”

“Seriously, I don’t remember, I drank a ton.” Stan felt a pang at the hazy memories, only able to clearly recall how shit the entire night had felt. And the shitty music. “You were there too, right? Didn’t you see anything?”

“I only stayed an hour.”

“Jeez, that’s pretty lame.”

“Well honestly I’m glad I did, considering how awful it seems to have been for everyone,” Wendy huffed. “Though it annoys me now knowing I might’ve missed out on something.”

“I honestly can’t remember anything important.” Stan dug his hand into his pocket, fidgeting with the lint.

“Well, luckily, talking to the others is helping build more of a picture,” Wendy said, then hummed. “Putting the two together helps to theorise about things, but it’s still not clear. Maybe it was a double kidnapping? Trying to make it look like something had happened to Craig to throw people off after getting suspicious about Kyle?”

“Or maybe they both killed themselves, and Kyle just messed up the room to make it seem otherwise to throw them off,” Stan muttered, then was instantly angry at himself for even managing to think of something like that. Angry that it was a theory he could probably actually believe.

“I really don’t think they’re dead,” was all Wendy replied with, and didn’t expand. “We can talk more tomorrow. You _are_ coming in tomorrow, right?”

“If I have to, I guess.”

“You always have to come to school. That’s the law.”

“A law that literally nobody gives a shit about,” Stan said, rolling his eyes. “Please just make sure if we’re going to start hanging out at lunch that nobody thinks we’re dating again.”

“I already told you, I don’t have any control over rumours,” Wendy said, frowning pointedly at him. “You do know that girls and boys can hang out without dating, right?”

“Well, yeah, duh, but I don’t think anyone else thinks like that.”

“I guess you have a point,” Wendy said. “But if they think that, they think that. It’s not exactly the worst people could think.”

“Just feels...wrong,” Stan said quietly, then sighed. “I’ll meet you tomorrow, I guess.”

“Right.” Wendy nodded. “Tomorrow.”

-

_Linda Stotch, 6:37pm_   
_Please, has anyone seen our dear Butters?? He isn’t home and I’m worried with all these disappearances something might have happened! Our Butters would surely never come home so late since he knows if he does he’ll be grounded! Butters, if you’re reading this, you’re grounded_   
_If anyone knows anything please tell me!! Oh, we’re so worried!_

Stan stared at his phone, then let his head drop back against the headboard of his bed, body feeling hollow.

Tomorrow probably wasn’t going to work out how they’d imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw hamburgers ;~;


	10. 26th april, tuesday

**april 26th, tuesday**

Tuesday had always been one of the shittiest days of the week, but today it was at a whole new level.

Stan had absolutely no energy left to deal with anything, feeling even less willing to go to school today than the day before. But his mom had insisted on driving him there, claiming that even the walk to the bus stop was too dangerous now that ‘half the neighbour kids had gone missing’. He stared out the window for the entire drive, and would’ve fully slumped over against it if it didn’t mean knocking his arm again. The further away he got from his house, with his only means of sanity still at the back of the fridge, the lower his mood sank.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. With all these kids from his class going missing, why did it have to start with Kyle?? Why not Cartman, or someone nobody would miss? Maybe in another world, this was all happening to a bunch of other kids, and he and Kyle were the ones reconciling, searching for the truth. It just- wasn’t fair. He just wanted it to be over already, not getting worse.

“I want you to come straight home after school, Stanley,” his mom said, and he glanced away from the window to see her still firmly focused on the road. “I’ll be home by five, and if you’re not there, I’ll phone the police.”

“Mom, that’s-“

“I’m serious, Stanley.” Her gaze flickered to him. “It’s dangerous.”

He wanted to use his go to excuse that things weren’t as bad as they seemed, and his mom was just overreacting as always, but saying that was admitting that he didn’t think things were bad for anyone of the missing kids, and that was a lie. Instead, he just nodded, feeling his heart sink deeper.

Thankfully, the bus had already arrived by the time they reached the gates, so at least he didn’t have to deal with the embarrassment of his classmates watching him get dropped off by his mom as a high school student. The relief quickly sunk off, however, when he realised now he had to sit through another seven hours of classes, knowing that someone else could go missing at any moment.

Wendy had of course rung him last night, less than twenty minutes of the post, and even she sounded somewhat less enthusiastic. Somehow though, despite her sighs and long pauses, Stan didn’t really feel like she was giving up. More just...frustrated.

As for Stan, he just felt like shit.

He kept his head down as he headed towards his locker, feeling as if every step was draining him even further. Just hearing all the voices around him made him want to scream. Why couldn’t people just shut up?? Just- for once? Just be fucking quiet?

Stan leaned his head against the cold metal of his locker, and was ready to spend all day that way, when a voice popped up behind him.

“You okay, dude?”

“I don’t want to be here right now,” Stan muttered, hoping Kenny was going to be less flippant about everything today. A hand patted his shoulder.

“Sucks, huh.”

“You’re still not worried,” Stan said, moving his head away from the locker to stare at his friend. “Not even for Butters?”

“Not really.” Kenny shrugged. “Like I said, I think it’ll be fine. But- I get how it must feel, not knowing where Kyle is.”

“I feel like I’m the only one who cares,” Stan mumbled, frowning down at the dull tiles of the corridor. Kenny patted him again.

“People are just bad at reacting to this stuff. They don’t know what to do or say.”

“Even you?”

“I mean, kind of? I guess. I dunno, dude. Maybe I’d be worried, but like, I have faith. Those guys aren’t idiots. They wouldn’t get into trouble.”

“You know you’re also talking about Butters here.”

“I know that,” Kenny said, rolling his eyes with a slight shake of his head. “I just think that-“

“You guys are still here?”

Stan turned along with Kenny to see Cartman, trying to look down at them even though he was shorter, which just made it look like he had something wrong with his neck. Just the sight of him sunk Stan’s mood lower.

“I’m surprised nobody’s buried your asses in the wood yet,” Cartman carried on, shaking his head. “Going after all the faggy kids. I mean, obviously it’s some kind of homophobic killer, right?”

“You mean like you?” Kenny spat, frowning.

“Three dead kids in less than two weeks though. Stan, you better watch out, everyone around here knows how faggy you are too-“

“Shut _up_ , Cartman, seriously,” Stan hissed, taking a step forwards. It was a mistake to let it get to him, he knew from Cartman’s smug expression, but he was just _not_ in the mood right now.

“What are you going to do, hit me with your broken arm? What’d you even do, try and steal a homeless guy’s drink?”

Stan couldn’t help it as he grabbed the front of Cartman’s shirt with his left hand, grinding his teeth together as he tried to stop himself from slamming him into a locker. Regardless, Cartman shrieked as if he actually had.

“That is _assault_ , Stan, I am going to sue you, I’m gonna report you to the school-!”

“Okay, guys, chill, chill,” Kenny cut in, stepping between them and pulling Stan’s arm away, leaving Cartman to jump backwards, patting his shirt furiously. “It’s not even nine yet.”

“Just fuck off, Cartman,” Stan muttered, trying to swallow his anger.

“Yeah well, you’ll be the next one dead in a fucking ditch, Stan, so we’ll see who’s laughing then!” Cartman turned and marched off down the hallway, but somehow seeing him disappear didn’t make Stan feel any better.

“You know you’re just giving him what he wants,” Kenny said after a moment passed.

“What if he’s right?” Stan asked, hating how he already sounded like he was about to burst into tears. He felt like he was. “What if there really is some guy going around murdering random kids from our school? What if Kyle’s...”

Kenny didn’t say anything to that, just staring sadly at Stan with pity in his eyes. It would’ve annoyed him normally, but now it just made him feel worse, like he was fully justified to have those fears, like they might not be so crazy. When the bell rang, Stan was half-tempted just to walk right out the gates again, before they got locked for the day.

But- he needed to talk to Wendy. Properly. See what she thought, and then let himself dissolve fully into the panic and hopelessness. After that, he’d go home.

The sound of the bell ringing seemed to turn his body to lead, and Stan had to force himself down the corridor, not even caring that he was probably going to be late. Once in class, he kept his head on the desk and tried not to listen to the murmurs and rumours around him. Three kids gone, and it seemed like people had finally started to care.

“They still haven’t found any of them? Woah, that’s bad.”

“What about the other one?”

“I heard he just didn’t come home after school...”

“You think there’s a murderer out there?”

“My mom says they’re long dead. Says there’s no chance.”

“Yeah well, my mom said I can’t go out this weekend anymore, so I’m kinda pissed off at them for even going missing at all.”

“I thought people were saying Craig killed himself?”

“No way, he’s not that lame.”

His desk rattled as Stan pushed himself up, not caring that the lesson still had fifteen minutes left. It was fifteen minutes too many. Another five seconds and he was seriously going to kill someone.

The gates were probably already locked by now, considering they were long into third period, and he didn’t really want to risk getting caught by a teacher and sent back to class. Instead, he went to the one place he knew nobody would look for him, the place he always camped out whilst waiting for school to end. Underneath the seats in the gym, there was a whole area where they kept equipment, all coated in a thick layer of dust. Stan had discovered it by mistake, and was sure most of the school didn’t even know it existed.

It was a spot he could come to drink too, but right now he didn’t have anything, so he was forced to just sit curled up on his phone, refreshing the news even though it made him feel worse. Three kids missing, he knew. And even less of a trail for Butters than the other two. Kyle had disappeared with a destroyed room, Craig had left his hat behind, but Butters had just- vanished. Though that might’ve been because nobody really paid much attention to him anyway. Probably if it hadn’t been after two much more popular kids, nobody would have noticed at all.

That was another reason it felt like it was getting way too serious.

Stan watched the hours tick by far far far too slowly, ignoring the stream of texts that flooded in from Wendy at lunch break. The ‘where are you?’s and ‘the others said they’d seen you’ and ‘you don’t need to act like this’ were left sitting at the top of his screen. Maybe if he ignored her for long enough, he’d get reported as the fourth missing person. And who the fuck would care.

At last, the last half hour of the day arrived, and Stan kept on eye on the time, trying to remember when the gates would open again. Maybe he could go now, tell anyone that caught him that he was just let out early. Not that that was likely. Only the super smart kids that finished their work early ever got let out before the bell. Stan thought those people were kind of assholes.

He was just finishing off the last level of the game he’d been playing when the heavy sound of the doors being pushed open echoed around him, and Stan hurried to tap the pause button, stilling himself. It was too early for any clubs; nobody should be here right now.

“-thinks nobody knows where he is, but we totally do,” somebody was saying, and Stan narrowed his eyes when he recognised it as Kenny.

“To be fair, I didn’t know until now,” another voice – Wendy? ugh, fuck’s sake – said, and Stan scowled, clicking his screen off. Definitely should’ve left five minutes ago. God, it was like nobody could leave him alone anymore.

“Yo, Stan, you still in here?” Kenny called out, just before the door cracked open, letting a beam of light into his hideout. He tried his best to look as if he hadn’t been totally caught out, even if he kind of had.

“Go away, I don’t wanna talk anymore,” he muttered, ready to stand up, but Wendy was still stood in front of the door, arms crossed. Somehow the light streaking in behind her and the shadow she cast made her even more intimidating.

“You were ignoring my texts, so I had no choice,” she said, surprisingly not even sounding that pissed off. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t get discouraged now.”

“Why wouldn’t I be discouraged? It’s only a matter of time before half the fucking school is gone.”

“That’s not-“

“What’s the point, Wendy? Even if we find out what happened, it’s already too late. And finding three people is way harder than one anyway.”

“No, that’s where you’re wrong,” Wendy said, shaking her head as she stepped over closer to him, alongside Kenny. Stan glanced between the two of them.

“Why are you guys here anyway? Don’t you have class?”

“I finished early,” Wendy said.

Kenny shrugged. “She let me copy.”

 _Assholes_ , Stan thought, then frowned. “Why’d she let you copy? Isn’t that like, against your code of honour or something?”

“Well, normally, yes, but today is different,” Wendy said, then glanced around with a displeased face. “You know, this place is really gross. Don’t your clothes smell bad after sitting in here all the time?”

“Can you just tell me why you’re here?”

“The _reason_ I let Kenny copy is because he said he had something to say to you,” Wendy said, face reverting to its serious expression. Stan shot a wary glance at Kenny, who nodded.

“Yeah, dude. It’s important.”

Stan’s heart started beating faster, the darkness and tightness of the room suddenly feeling threatening. “What?”

“It’s about those guys. You need to know-“

One of the beams holding up the seats above suddenly broke free, coming to land completely over Kenny, crushing him dead. Stan leapt up.

“Jesus Christ, dude!!” he yelled, then paused, turning back to Wendy. “Wait, what were you saying?”

Wendy stared at him. “What?”

“What?”

“Don’t you normally do that bit differently?” Wendy asked, frowning.

“Well yeah, but Kyle’s not here.”

“Kyle’s-“ Wendy stopped, eyes growing large. “Right, Kyle! Listen, Stan, I know you think it’s hopeless right now, but I just _know_ they have to be connected. Think about it! It makes no sense otherwise.”

“You keep saying that, but how do you know? All you’re doing is guessing.” Stan shook his head, feeling his anger fade into a hollow sadness. “They’re already dead. Everyone is saying it.”

“That’s not-“ Wendy cut herself off as a buzzing was heard from her pocket, and she gave him one last look before she pulled it out, swiping her finger across the screen to answer the call. Stan just inhaled deeply, pulling himself up and getting ready to leave. He’d have to get a new hiding spot, he thought as he stepped around Kenny’s crushed remains. It would be annoying if people kept finding him here.

“Slow down, slow down,” Wendy was saying to whoever it was on the other line, and the tone of her voice made Stan linger for just a moment. “I’m sure it’s nothing- they did that to Stan too, and he’s- I _know_ , but- listen to me-“

At the mention of his name, Stan turned back, straining to hear the other end of the phone. It definitely sounded like a girl’s voice, though it was too muffled to tell exactly whose it was.

“Where are you now?” Wendy asked, already setting off walking. “Okay, just wait there, I’m coming-“

“Who is it?” Stan whispered as he followed along after her as she raced out the gym and into the gradually filling hallways.

“Thirty seconds, I promise,” Wendy said before hanging up, glancing back towards him. “Bebe. Apparently something happened to Clyde.”

Stan felt his stomach drop. “Don’t say he’s-“

“No, he’s fine, I just mean with the police.”

“With the police?”

“Look, I’ll explain later after. Right now I need to find Bebe. She’s upset.”

“You can’t just say that and then not explain-”

“ _After_!” Wendy snapped, pushing her way to the main exit and out the building. Stan had to catch the door before it slammed in his face.

Few students were outside, which made it easy to spot Bebe stood near the steps, furiously texting. Stan let Wendy approach first, lingering behind and feeling just a little like he wasn’t supposed to be there. Well, not that that was anything new.

“Oh god, Wends, help me right now,” Bebe said, glancing up from her phone with a distraught look. Wendy moved closer, putting a hand on her shoulder and pulling her into a half-hug.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just take a breath and tell me exactly what happened.”

“It’s so stupid, I mean, what are they even thinking?? Like, you should’ve seen it, it was so bad- that ugly counsellor with the bad lipstick came in and asked Clyde to leave, and then you could see out the door there was this _policeman_ , and he wasn’t even hot, I mean, like a six out of a ten if that, and that’s in uniform-“

“Why did they take Clyde in?” Wendy asked, then frowned. “Really, a six even in uniform?”

“I _know_ right!” Bebe shook her head, eyes gleaming. “I don’t know why they asked him to go, it doesn’t make any sense. Like, they said they had evidence he’d done something? But that’s totally not true!”

“Evidence?” Wendy frowned, and Stan stilled. “Evidence of what?”

“I don’t know, he was way too upset to even talk properly,” Bebe said sadly. “This is so awful! It’s not his fault! He’s too stupid to do anything like that!”

“Is he still there now?” Wendy asked.

“No, I’m texting him now,” Bebe said, flashing her phone up. “I told him to come to mine. How could they accuse him of doing anything?? He’s been crying non-stop for like a week straight! Once even when we were making out! It was kind of a turn off.”

“Do you think we could go see him?”

“Well, _duh_ , I thought we were going to do that anyway,” Bebe said, then stopped suddenly, seeming to catch a glance of Stan for the first time. “What is _he_ doing here? Wends, we told you, that fruit long expired.”

Stan frowned. “Uh, what?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Wendy said, rolling her eyes. “He’s just been helping with the investigation.”

“Really?” Bebe stared at him for a moment, eyebrow raised. “Even in investigation partners, I still think you could do better.”

Stan scowled. “Hey!”

“Is it okay if he comes with us to see Clyde?” Wendy asked, and Stan couldn’t help the stab of annoyance that she wasn’t even defending him.

“I don’t know...I don’t really want him to get more upset...”

“He’ll be quiet.” Wendy shot him a look. “Right, Stan?”

God, he was starting to remember why he hated hanging out with the girls so much. “Right.”

“Well, okay, but we need to hurry,” Bebe said, her skirt swirling as she swiftly turned around. “I’ll drive. Put Stan in the back.”

Stan sighed, tagging along after Wendy. Seriously. Really hated hanging out with them.

-

It was a good thing probably all the police in town were busy dealing with the disappearances, considering Bebe decided to drive about fifteen miles over the speed limit, swerving around corners without a care. Stan couldn’t tell if she was just that worried about Clyde, or really impatient. Probably both.

Despite the speed, Clyde was already waiting outside Bebe’s house when they arrived, sat on the sidewalk with his head in his hands, looking even more miserable than he had done the day before. Bebe leapt out the car, and Stan scrambled to follow, too wary that she could easily stick the child locks on.

“Are you okay??” Bebe asked, dipping down beside him. “Are they gonna arrest you?? What happened?”

Clyde just shook his head slowly, pressing his eyes shut. “I’m an idiot.”

Stan threw a glance at Wendy, who looked back at him with the same expression. What was that supposed to mean?

“It’s okay, Wendy says they did the same thing to Stan,” Bebe carried on. “They’re probably just taking in people who were like, good friends with them or something.”

Clyde shook his head again, pressing his hands against his eyes.

“What was the evidence?” Stan tried, ignoring the scathing look Bebe hit him with.

Clyde didn’t move, but murmured, “I’m a bad friend.”

“Stop saying that, it’s _not_ your fault,” Bebe said, placing an arm around his shoulder. Stan couldn’t remember if they were still officially dating, but apparently they had something going on. “Do you wanna come inside and talk about it? I’ve got some nachos.”

Clyde sniffed, looking up slightly. “Okay, if it’s nachos...”

“Don’t worry, the police here are all _idiots_ ,” Bebe said to him as she helped him up, leading him towards her house. She paused for just a moment, glancing back to Wendy. “Ring you later?”

“No problem,” Wendy said with a nod. The two of them waited until Bebe and Clyde had disappeared, and then Wendy turned to him to break the silence. “You want to go grab a coffee? Talk about this?”

“No,” Stan said heavily. “I just wanna go home.”

He really did. So much had happened just in the past hour, and he hadn’t even planned on being there at all today. Spending another hour listening to Wendy talk about how she was _so_ sure she was close to figuring something out whilst things just continued to get worse really didn’t sound fun right now. They had no information, and it was only a matter of days before someone else was taken. His head hurt, his arm hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to stay in bed for the next week.

“Oh, okay.” Wendy seemed a little taken aback, but didn’t push it. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Sure,” he said, turning around to head back home without saying bye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's kyle's bday!! or at least, it would've been if i didn't miss it by 30 minutes!! ouo""  
> and totally unrelated to that i realised i mixed up the ages in the earlier chapter >>"" u saw.....nothing...........  
> thanks for reading!! i'll see you again soon ^^


	11. 27th april, wednesday

**april 27th, wednesday**

Stan was halfway through shovelling cereal into his mouth when his phone vibrated against the table. He let the spoon fall against the side of the bowl as he swiped across the screen, opening up the chat with Wendy. Part of him was still pissed off from yesterday, though he couldn’t muster the energy to feel as bitter as he had done before.

_Wendy: I don’t know if you check your emails-_

He didn’t.

_-but you should know that school has been cancelled today.  
Wendy: Since Butters was last seen at the gates, parents have been calling in with concerns. _

Stan glanced towards his mom, still busy over at the counter. That wasn’t hard to believe. He could easily imagine that she was involved in whatever action had been taken to force the school to shut down for the day. The phone buzzed again, though he left it unread, spooning in another mouthful.

“School’s cancelled,” he said as soon as he’d swallowed, and his mom turned to him, eyebrows raised but not looking surprised.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I got a text from Wendy.”

“Wendy?” his mom echoed, and her tone told him he probably shouldn’t have mentioned it. “I didn’t know you two were still talking.”

“We’re- not, really.” Stan stirred his spoon around the bowl, watching the chocolate leak into the milk. “Just like- the past week. She was helping me with some stuff.”

“I see,” was all his mom said, and he _really_ hoped that she didn’t think they were a thing again. Or anything even close to that. “Well, I think it’s a good move shutting the schools. Considering what happened to your friend...”

Stan wanted to add that Kyle and Craig disappeared when school wasn’t even on, but kept his mouth shut, aware that his mom could easily command him not to go outside at all. Which- really wouldn’t have been an issue a few weeks ago, but now...

He clicked the final message on his phone when he was done with eating, keeping his phone against the table where it was easier to use.

_Wendy: Maybe today you’ll take me up on that offer of getting coffee? I think it would be good to talk.  
Wendy: I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you yesterday. I hope you’re feeling better today._

It still had Wendy’s kind of haughty and know-it-all tone to it, but he could tell that she was worried about him, and he sighed. The urge to just shut the world out and let himself get washed away in the tides was still as nagging as ever, but he couldn’t deny that taking a more active role in things was helping him feel just a little better. Even if it was probably only temporary.

_Stan: Okay  
Stan: Sorry if I was an asshole yesterday_

It only took a few seconds before her reply popped up.

_Wendy: It’s okay. I understand how this must feel for you._   
_Wendy: It’s frustrating enough for me as it is._

Something about the message struck up the impulse to check the news again, the case of Butters added to the list of disappearances. Not that it had added much information. Stan was half wondering if this was going to be it. A set of cases that nobody could ever solve, deemed a complete mystery, ready to pop up on Youtube clickbait videos in ten years’ time.

If that really did happen, Stan’s head was going to be totally fucked.

His phone buzzed again, and Stan agreed to meet up in two hours, figuring that was enough time to prepare himself for an afternoon of empty words about a stagnant investigation.

Might as well do what he could, he guessed.

-

With full attention on her phone, Wendy stood outside the coffee shop, hardly even seeming to notice as Stan approached. Just as he stepped next to her, her eyes flickered up, blinking at him.

“Oh, hello.”

Stan shifted his hand in his pocket. “Hey.”

“It’s a little strange being off school again, isn’t it?” Wendy commented politely as she pushed the door aside, and Stan followed in after her.

“I guess.” It wasn’t really that weird, considering he usually skipped half the week anyway. Even the week before the break, he’d only gone in Tuesday and Friday, figuring that since he missed the tests, he might as well skip the days they handed them back. That was just common sense, right?

Despite the cancellation of school, it was still a weekday, and the café wasn’t overly crowded, similar to the other day. Thankfully, Wendy opted to choose one of the seats by the wall, though Stan suspected it was more about finding a plug socket than getting added privacy.

“You’re not going to order first?” Stan asked, frowning as Wendy slipped her laptop out of her bag.

“You can, if you want,” Wendy said, tapping in her password. “I’m going to get set up first.”

Stan tried to hide his scornful face as he stood up, annoyed that Wendy had asked him to meet here when she didn’t even want coffee. Probably just wanted to look pretentious, sat there with her laptop. Ugh.

It was less unexpected than it should have been to see Tweek at the counter again, the guy shooting him a wary glance as he approached. His parents really did make him work at every chance they got, huh. Stan wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d rang up the school to beg for a cancellation just to get their extra pair of hands at the shop.

“I’ll just...take black again,” Stan said carefully, worried that Tweek was going to flip out on him if he even tried to attempt small talk. Something about him looked- tense. Either pissed off or upset. Or both.

Luckily, Tweek just nodded, eye twitching as he turned. Stan tried to study his face more as he made the coffee, but it was surprisingly hard. Tweek always looked uncertain about something, and always shook like everything was bothering him, so how was Stan supposed to figure out if he actually was? For all he knew, Tweek was just pissed off because he was working again. Seriously, it could be anything with this kid.

Even as Tweek handed him his drink, he kept the same expression, and Stan paid in exact change just to help shorten their interaction time. Maybe he was pissed off at _him_. That didn’t really make sense. It wasn’t like he’d done anything.

“I spoke to Bebe last night,” Wendy started as soon as Stan reached the edge of the table, and he held back a sigh. Straight back to business. “Apparently the police said they’d been alerted of suspicious activity relating to Clyde, though he wouldn’t tell her exactly what. She said he got upset whenever she pushed him.”

“Isn’t that like, way more suspicious?” Stan asked, frowning. To be honest, he didn’t really think Clyde had anything to do with it. Or at least, not with Butters or Kyle. Clyde wasn’t just the type of guy to fail his quizzes, he was the type to not even realise he’d done so. Really not any kind of criminal.

“I don’t think he’s done anything,” Wendy said, as if reading his mind. “Or at least, nothing _wrong_. But I think he knows something. And I’m _sure_ it’s to do with that party. Like I said, Bebe said he was crying before he even got drunk, but here’s the thing. Craig, Clyde, Token and Jimmy were all together early in the night, up in Clyde’s room. She said it was only after that Clyde started acting weird.”

“Wait, I think I...remember that.” Stan frowned. “I was trying to find Clyde to get a new shirt.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “A new shirt?”

“That’s...not important,” Stan said, shaking his head. “So what, you think they had a fight?”

“Maybe,” Wendy said. “Or maybe Craig told them something.”

“That’s-“ A sudden pit of worry formed in Stan’s stomach, the thought coming all at once. Kyle had been trying to tell him something at that party. He’d been trying to tell him something important, and Stan- never got the chance to find out what.

“Are you okay?” Wendy asked, voice less curt now. “You’re a little pale.”

“I-“ Stan swallowed, turning his attention to his drink. “Listen, I- at the party- Kyle wanted to tell me something, but I- I didn’t...I got- caught up with stuff...”

Wendy’s stare was piercing. He could feel it without even looking up. “He wanted to tell you something?”

“What if it was the same thing Craig told the others,” Stan muttered, putting his hand to his head. “Oh god, what if they really did get into trouble or planned something and it went wrong- I could’ve known, what if he- what if that’s what he wanted to say-“

“What about Butters?” Wendy pressed on, and Stan was distantly aware of the thud of her keyboard. God, it had already turned into an interview. “Anything similar with him?”

“I...” Stan shook his head. “I don’t know, he seemed fine to me. He was just hanging out with Tweek and Kenny.”

A moment of only typing. “You really should’ve mentioned this sooner.”

“I know, I just- it’s a really shitty memory, you know?”

“This is important, Stan! Even if you’re embarrassed, I have to know these things!”

“Well, I told you now, so- no big deal.”

Wendy sighed, then the frustration on her face eased up slightly. “But this just proves more that this is all connected. It makes sense if that’s what upset Clyde. I did see him run outside one point, when I was with some of the girls. He nearly knocked someone over.”

“Wait-“ Stan pulled a face. “Early on?”

“Yeah, maybe around eleven? I left not too long after, since you know how things get later in the night-“

“It was _Clyde_?” Stan exclaimed, clenching his fists with a small spike of pain. “Dude, he fucking ruined my shirt with the drink! He’s the whole reason I couldn’t go talk to Kyle!”

Wendy stared at him with a steady expression. “You couldn’t go talk to Kyle because your shirt was wet?”

“I mean- it wasn’t...that simple-“ Stan shook his head again, feeling the anger towards Clyde shift direction towards himself. “He’s still an asshole.”

“And he knows something,” Wendy said, tapping her finger against her laptop. “And so does Tweek.”

“Tweek?” Stan couldn’t help but steal a glance back over to the counter. “But he wasn’t even with them. He was with Kenny and Butters, I told you that.”

“Do you remember when we spoke to them all on Monday? Token said just to speak to him and Jimmy. They left out Clyde and Tweek for a reason, but it’s not because they’re upset. It’s because they’re the most likely to spill. I know it.”

“Spill what?” Stan frowned. “Besides, I get Clyde, but I don’t know if you can force anything out of Tweek. He can be kinda...”

“If it really is something bad, he’ll tell us,” Wendy said, voice teeming with confidence as she slightly lowered the lid of her laptop. “That’s how he is. His heart is pretty big.”

“It’s gotta be to keep up with beating two hundred beats a minute,” Stan muttered, eyes back on his slowly cooling coffee.

“That’s actually why I wanted to come here,” Wendy said then, almost sounding sheepish about it. “I mean, of course I wanted to talk to you, but I had another motive in mind.”

“I don’t think he’ll talk to you, dude. Like I said-“

“That was you,” Wendy said haughtily, standing up. “We actually get along pretty well.”

“I mean, we did too-“ Stan cut himself off, thinking back. Okay, maybe as a kid, but the last time they’d had an actual conversation before last week was maybe three years ago. And it had been in class, talking about an analysis of a book Stan hadn’t read. “...Okay, sure.”

To keep himself from staring as Wendy went to ask Tweek to join them, Stan tried to think about the party and its important bits instead of just the sad. If Kyle and Craig had been wanting to say the same thing, what would it be? They never hung out as far as Stan had seen, and they really didn’t have that much in common. Adding Butters to that mix just made it even more confusing. If there was something, Stan couldn’t think of it right now. Maybe it was something new. Something about Kyle that Stan didn’t know anymore.

That thought hurt more than it should. God.

A sharp noise cut him out of his thoughts, and Stan looked up to see Wendy walking over with Tweek, who was trembling a little, though he looked more worried than annoyed now. Well, that was probably a good sign.

“Ngh, I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say,” Tweek said, giving Stan a cautious look. “And I don’t have long because I need to work, ack...!”

“It won’t take long, I promise,” Wendy said, and Stan was almost amazed to see him sit down across from them, shifting uncomfortably. Wow, maybe they really were friends. “And we’re not going to ask you about Craig, don’t worry.”

“What?” Stan frowned. “Why not? I mean, he-“

“I _wanted_ to ask you about Clyde,” Wendy carried on firmly, cutting him off. “Because we’re worried he might be in some trouble right now, and you might know why.”

Tweek’s demeanour changed all at once. “Oh god, Clyde?? Why, did something happen?”

“The police took him in yesterday-“

“Gahh, oh god...” Tweek knitted his hands through his hair, elbows against the table. “I knew this was gonna happen!! Aghh!”

“What?” Wendy’s eyes shot up, hands hovering above her keyboard, and Stan sat up a little too. She was right. Tweek did know something. “Can you tell me? It might help Clyde, and Craig too.”

“I...” Tweek stared hard at the table, pulling his hair slightly, before he let his hands fall. “Craig doesn’t need my help, but- I can tell you for Clyde’s sake.”

Wendy typed something quickly, and Stan glanced over to see the words _‘still present tense’_ on the screen.

“Ngh, well, the night after the party, the rest of us stayed over at Clyde’s again,” Tweek said, fiddling with his sleeves. “We were helping clean and stuff, ngh.”

“And Craig was there?”

“No,” Tweek said quickly. “Craig doesn’t like to clean, so he went home.”

“That sounds like him,” Stan muttered, ignoring Wendy’s side-eye.

“But, uh, there was still a lot of alcohol left over, so some of the others had some. Though I don’t like to drink, so...!”

Stan tried to think back to the party, trying to recall if Tweek had been drinking then either. It was fuzzy, but maybe he really hadn’t been.

“Clyde kind of- drank a lot,” Tweek said, shoulder twitching. “And went out to Kyle’s house in the middle of the night.”

“Wait-“ Stan’s head whirred, the thoughts of thinking Clyde was too stupid to do harm wavering. “He went to _Kyle’s_? Why? Are you sure he didn’t do something?”

“Let’s hear the rest first,” Wendy commanded, words laced with warning. Not that Stan really cared. If Clyde had actually done something to Kyle, Stan was prepared to have her glaring at him all she wanted.

“I said it was a stupid idea!” Tweek exclaimed, head jerking to the side. “I mean- I was the only one awake, since, ngh, y’know, I never sleep, but he wouldn’t listen. He kept crying and saying he had to talk to him.”

“Do you know about what?”

“No.” Tweek’s eyes met the table again. “He didn’t say.”

Stan leaned forwards, then flinched back as his sling hit the table. “That’s-“

“So he went out? What time?”

“Nghh...maybe...4am?”

“Dude-“

“How long was he gone for?” Wendy didn’t look up from her laptop. “And what happened when he got back? Anything strange?”

“I don’t know what counts as strange, but-“ Tweek let out a short sigh. “He was gone for maybe, twenty minutes? And, ack, still seemed kinda sad when he got back. But he didn’t talk as much afterwards.”

“Did you tell the others about this?” Wendy asked.

“I don’t know if Clyde told them, but I didn’t.” Tweek paused for a second. “I didn’t want him to get in any trouble.”

“Maybe Clyde also knew what was happening with Kyle?”

“Why would he tell _Clyde_?” Stan asked, pulling a face. “They weren’t friends.”

“You don’t know that,” Wendy said, and it felt like a slap to the face. This conversation was leaving him reeling with all the pangs of anger and fear.

“No, I- I don’t know,” Tweek said. “I don’t know why he went over there.”

“And he didn’t go to anyone else’s house? Not even Craig?”

“No,” Tweek said, voice quieter. “Just Kyle.”

“Dude, there’s no way,” Stan said, shaking his head. “He has to have done something. How the hell did the police let him go??”

“Ack, I really don’t think he did anything!”

“Twenty minutes is more than enough time,” Stan carried on. “And Kyle’s family wasn’t even home-“

“Stan-“ Wendy tried, but Stan ignored her.

“Don’t you realise how serious this is? This is like, the answer we’ve been searching for!”

“You’re throwing out baseless accusations, ack!”

“It’s not baseless! You just told us, he did something to Kyle-“

“Don’t you think I get it, man??” Tweek burst out suddenly, and Stan blinked, recoiling slightly. “I know how you feel! I’m worried too!! It’s the exact same for me, but- you can’t just go around blaming people for shit they didn’t do, ack!”

“Yeah? And how do you know that?”

“Because I trust him, ack!” Tweek squeezed his eyes shut. “I just think people do stupid things sometimes.”

“It’s fine, Tweek, we believe you,” Wendy said, Stan just kept a watchful glare on him, still unable to relax. “Is there anything else important you want to add?”

“I just...” Tweek trailed off, trembling dying down slightly. “I hope they’re all okay.”

“Me too,” Wendy said softly, smiling. “You’ve been really helpful, so thank you, We’ll let you get back to your work.”

Tweek nodded with a sharp movement, standing up to hurry over to the counter without a glance back. It was annoying, but as much as Stan wanted to stay and grill the guy all day, he knew he couldn’t. For various reasons, but also including that Tweek might actually explode if interrogated too much.

“Once again, you were being rude,” Wendy huffed after a few moments, turning to Stan. “I don’t know why you’re getting so heated with everyone. He was trying to help.”

“Wendy, did you not hear what he said? Clyde went to _Kyle’s house_ the same night he went missing, in the middle of the night, whilst drunk.”

“You don’t really believe _Clyde_ did anything, do you?” Wendy shook her head at him. “I do think it’s suspicious, but I don’t think it’s what you’re implying at all.”

“So what do you think?” Stan asked, rolling his eyes. “That you need more information? That you’re _so sure_ that you know something?”

“I’m trying to help! It’s not my fault it’s so hard to find information!”

“But you’re not doing enough!”

“I’m not going to talk to you whilst you’re being like this,” Wendy said, folding her arms. Stan stared for a moment, then sighed. True, it wasn’t Wendy’s fault.

“Okay, I’m sorry. It’s just- a lot to take in, you know?”

“I get it.” Wendy turned slightly, scrolling up on her laptop. “Listen, I have two theories, but you have to promise not to get upset with either of them. I didn’t want to tell you before I was sure, but I can tell it’s doing more harm than good.”

“Tell me,” Stan urged. “I’m sorry, okay. I won’t freak out. Promise.”

“Okay.” She double-clicked something, and the screen scrolled down to another page. “First is the nicer one. Kyle, Craig, Butters, and potentially a few more people planned something out. They’re doing all this on purpose to try and stir panic, or take attention away from something else.”

“But why those guys?”

“I don’t know. It just seems like a possibility, considering how everyone seems to know different amounts. Maybe that’s what Kyle wanted to tell you.”

The bad memory swirled around Stan’s head again, and he forced himself to concentrate. “What about the second one?”

“...Less nice,” Wendy said. “Somebody was in danger, and either those guys got mixed up in it, or they caused it. Either way, they got involved in trouble, and now it’s taking course.”

“And you still don’t think it’s Cartman?”

“Still no,” Wendy said. “But really, it could be anyone. It could even be amongst the three – or more – of them.”

“...You know, somehow hearing you actually give your theories is worse,” Stan muttered, slinking down in his seat.

“I thought that’s what you wanted me to do?”

“It is, I just...” Didn’t want to acknowledge that either way, it was his own stupidity that had led him to not know. Not talking to Kyle at the party. Not talking to him even before that. He could’ve been a part of their plans. He could’ve stopped whatever danger they’re in.

He could’ve known.

“It always ends up okay, Stan,” Wendy said after a few seconds passed, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We’re making progress. I know it feels like it’s going nowhere, but we’re getting there.”

Stan stared down at himself, flexing his fingers slightly as they stuck out the end of his cast.

It always ended up okay, huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> clyde arrested for crimes against tshirt ;n;


	12. 28th april, thursday

**april 28th, thursday**

“Stealing your old man’s liquor again, ey, Stan?”

The cold of the can was already seeping into his palm when Stan heard the voice calling him, thankful for the barrier of the fridge door. With care not to cause any clinking, Stan slowly moved his hand away from the beer, taking out a carton of milk instead. When he shut the door, his dad was watching him.

“Just getting breakfast,” Stan muttered, hoping that the disappointment in his voice sounded more like it was to do with his dad’s presence than being interrupted. Honestly, it wasn’t really something he had to fake. “How come you’re not at work?”

“Got the morning off,” Randy said, stepping aside him to get to the fridge. “Not like I’m as lucky as you, getting a bunch of days off. Like jeez, it was just a few kids.”

Stan closed his eyes, breathing in slowly through his nose. As much as he wanted to, he knew it really wasn’t worth it to rise up to whatever comment his dad made. It never changed. Either he’d treat it like some big joke or just blow up and get all defensive. Stan glanced at the can in his dad’s hand, and felt a spike of distaste.

It really felt like there were more bad people in this world than good, Stan thought bitterly. If people like his dad were considered the norm, then they had to be everywhere. And if bad people were really that common, then...

Stan waited for his dad to retreat to the other room before he put the milk back in the fridge, and hurried upstairs back to his room. When he dug his phone out of his jacket pocket, he could see he had another text from Wendy (of course), but didn’t open it, taking a moment to just stare at his phone and the date.

Ten days since Kyle was reported missing. Ten days with no sightings, no leads, no nothing. Even if he really was still alive somewhere - how long could a person survive outside? Sure it was April, but it wasn’t _that_ warm. The night was still cold. It was still dangerous.

Stan dropped his phone, leaning back on his bed. For not the first time, he had the urge to hold his head in his hands, or roll over and let himself hang half off the bed without a care in the world, but he couldn’t do that. Not with the stupid sling still on. He eyed it warily.

If it was ten days since Kyle went, it had been ten days since he’d been forced to wear it. It hadn’t hurt as much in the past few days, and Stan felt a small burst of hope as he thought that maybe it was healed. How long had the nurse said, a couple of weeks? But it had _almost_ been two, or, kind of, because if it was two weeks without Kyle he’d be really freaking out, but it was close enough that it was probably fine to take it off.

But even if it was fine, Stan didn’t really feel like taking any chances, resting his arm against his dresser as he shuffled the strap off his shoulder, gingerly pulling the sling off his arm. It had gotten easier to take off and put on after the first few days, though it was still a little clunky. But his arm _looked_ fine. There wasn’t any swelling at the elbow, and the cuts and grazes that had been scattered along his forearm were almost fully healed. Wasn’t this whole sling thing just like- an overreaction?

Stan swallowed, staring hard down at his arm. He wanted to try moving it, but something in his body was telling him not to. That same feeling of wanting to punch his face but not quite being able to go through with it. But he had to stop being scared-

The intense stab of pain that shot across his arm made him suck in a breath and hunch over, gripping his left hand to his arm in an attempt to secure it. Even as he kept still, the pain still reverberated up and down his arm, twisting all the way to his fingertips and up to his shoulder. Almost in his throat.

“Fuck, fuck _fuck_ ,” Stan hissed, trying not to squeeze his arm as he stayed folded over. How did it still hurt so much? Why wasn’t it healed yet? Why couldn’t he just _get over it-_

Tears were already welling up in his eyes when his phone buzzed against the bed, and Stan blinked, glancing to the side. Right, she was still trying to figure it out. They could still find an answer, and then Stan would know what to do for sure. Finally be able to place his feelings. Or at least, he hoped so.

This really sucked.

He forced himself to sit up, slowly and cautiously sliding his arm back into the sling with more care than he’d given it the entire last week. The pain was starting to fade, but the remaining ache told him not to try again for the time being. More of that sensation and he was sure he’d puke.

Similar to yesterday, the first text read ‘ _I hope you’re feeling okay again today_ ’, but it didn’t strike him with the same kindness it had before. Mostly because he felt like shit today, and had a reason to, considering how long it had been. The second was ‘ _if it’s okay, can I ask you for a favour?_ ’.

Stan frowned down at his phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Sometimes it really felt like Wendy was being too persistent. Didn’t she have like- other things to do? She hadn’t even texted him this much back when they were still dating. Hell, back then they could go two weeks without even talking.

To be fair, it wasn’t the best of relationships for the most part.

But as much as he was irritated, he couldn’t deny Wendy was trying a lot harder than him, and providing him with a reason to wake up every day. Besides, if he stayed in, he’d have to spend the first half of the day with his dad, and he _really_ did not want to do that. Part of him would rather be dead than have to deal with Randy for longer than two minutes. Maybe even less than that.

_Stan: What’s the favour?_

-

He should’ve said no.

“More time has passed now,” Wendy was saying as they stood outside Kyle’s house. “There’s no reason we wouldn’t be allowed in his room now, right?”

Stan shifted, hunching over slightly. “Well, yeah, but...”

“You were fine the first time we tried,” Wendy said, turning to him with a raised eyebrow.

“I wasn’t, but-“ Stan shook his head. “Things were different back then, Wendy. This is like- different. It’s- not the same.”

“You know you just said basically the same thing three times.”

“It’s been _ten days_ , Wendy,” Stan stressed, feeling on edge just hearing the words aloud. “Dude, Kyle’s mom was freaked out enough the first time we went. Imagine how crazy she’s gonna be now.”

“That’s why you’re here,” Wendy said, giving him a pointed look. “Kyle’s mom thinks you guys are still friends. She’s bound to make an exception. She let us upstairs last time, right?”

“Yeah but, I don’t think she even likes me that much.” Stan frowned. “Pretty sure she used to think I was a bad influence.”

 _And she was probably right_ , Stan thought off-handily. Wendy gave him a look for a few seconds, something hard to read about her furrowed brows, before she shook her head and turned back to face Kyle’s house.

“We need to look inside that room,” she said decisively. “What if Kyle left a note? Maybe there’s something in there that he left for _you_ , knowing you would go looking. Didn’t you think of that?”

“I- no, he wouldn’t do that, dude. He hated me.”

“But we need to _know_ there’s nothing that we missed,” Wendy said, then set off in strides across the lawn, forcing Stan to follow after. He was about to open his mouth to try again when Wendy knocked on the door firmly, securing her arms back down at her side. Stan lingered on the step awkwardly, trying to decide if there was enough time to run back to his own house, before the door opened.

“Oh, Kyle and Wendy,” Sheila greeted, voice noticeably more tired than it had been last time she answered. “I wasn’t expecting to see you two here again.”

“I hope we’re not bothering you,” Wendy started, and Stan shrunk as Sheila's gaze flickered between the two of them. “We were just wondering if there was any chance we could take a look at Kyle’s room, now that the police are gone.”

Stan thought it had pretty much no tact, and was way too straightforward, but amazingly it seemed to do the trick, as Kyle’s mom shook her head slowly.

“Oh yes, come in, come in,” she said as she stepped aside. The house seemed cleaner than last time, but not any more welcoming. Still too empty. “If I’m being totally honest, I was hoping you two might come over to help out again. The police just aren’t doing a good job, and now with all these other cases on their hands-“ She shook her head. “Everyone is forgetting about our Kyle.”

“We haven’t forgotten,” Stan said, before Wendy could beat him to it. “We’re still- looking.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Sheila said, looking at him sadly. “It’s hard to think of you two being apart for so long.”

“...Yeah.” The knife in his gut twisted as he nodded, looking down to the floor so he wouldn’t have to look at her or Wendy’s face. It felt like he was going to cry again, and Kyle’s mom could probably tell, but she wouldn’t know the real reason. Because she didn’t know.

But _why_ didn’t she know? Did Kyle not tell her because it wasn’t worth it? Not important enough to mention the end of a lifelong friendship? Or was it because he was...

“Please let me know if you find anything,” Sheila continued, and Stan let Wendy do the rest of the talking before they ascended the stairs, Stan’s eyes still on the carpet.

“I’ll let you go in first,” Wendy said quietly to him, and Stan dragged his gaze up to see Kyle’s door in front of him. It had never felt more oppressive than it did right now, like some kind of barrier between them and reality. Some crazy part of him was still hoping that when he clicked it open, Kyle would be sat there, doing homework or on his computer or reading on his bed, just like he had been all the thousands of other times Stan had opened it. Being greeted with a grin or a ‘hey, dude’.

But he could already tell the room was empty. There was nobody inside. Whatever sixth sense it was, he could tell it wasn’t wrong.

Stan turned the handle, and took a step inside. Then instantly, he had to stop and stare.

It wasn’t even the glaringly broken window that caught his eye first. It was the mess on the floor, the clothes and the papers and books, scattered out as if someone had just thrown them all there carelessly. The covers of the bed crumpled, half on the floor, sat near the fallen lamp with a smashed bulb. Even the computer had been pushed aside, screen facing the door, keyboard almost off the desk. Kyle’s room had never been like this. Kyle’s room wasn’t _supposed_ to be like this.

“...I guess they really didn’t clean this place up at all,” Wendy said, stepping in carefully after him, eyes wandering around the room. “It doesn’t look good.”

“Something bad happened in here,” Stan whispered, unable to make his voice come out any louder, and scared he’d start crying if he forced it to. “Wendy, I don’t-“

“It’s okay,” Wendy said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I can do most of the searching. Just tell me if there’s anywhere you think I should look.”

“...Yeah.” As much as he wanted to be helpful, the thought of rummaging through a place where Kyle might’ve been seriously hurt turned his stomach, and he let himself remain glued to the floor by the door, unmoving.

It just felt so wrong. There were so many memories in here, so clear that Stan could almost see the ghost of them amongst the mess. The dent in the door where Kyle had once kicked it after ranting about Cartman’s latest scheme (“the _worst thing_ he’s ever done!” about three times a week), or the stain on the carpet near the desk where they’d spilt soda and Kyle had stressed the various ways his mom was going to kill him, before Stan suggested just pushing something over it to hide it. It wasn’t hidden now.

So many times talking in the middle of the night too, sometimes flicking the lights back on to argue, or to joke, and playing video games until the first bird would chirp and they’d share that ‘oh shit’ look with each other at realising how much time had passed. Once Kyle said something and Stan laughed so hard that he fell off the bed and crashed his head against the floor, and Kyle had all been worried about maybe needing a doctor, but then he’d laughed too when Stan had dizzily stumbled around the room, stars in his eyes. And despite everything, he didn’t go to a doctor, and he didn’t die.

It wasn’t fair. They were supposed to be friends forever. They weren’t supposed to have old distant memories together, they were just supposed to keep living that way endlessly. Was it his fault that things had turned out like this? Or was it Kyle’s? Did they both...do something wrong?

“You’re back again.”

Stan jumped out of his thoughts, the shock snapping the sorrow out his face. Near the door frame was Ike, arms crossed as he watched Wendy stop picking around the room to look at him too.

“H...hey, Ike,” Stan tried not to sound too put off, though he still found it weird how nonchalant Ike was despite seeing two people searching through the ruined room of his lost brother. People really had strange ways of coping, huh.

“You two still investigating?” Ike asked, raising a thin eyebrow.

“Yeah...?”

Ike smirked a little. “Cool.”

“You don’t seem very worried,” Stan said before he could stop himself. Then he narrowed his eyes slightly, focusing on Ike’s unbothered expression. “...You know something.”

“Well, yeah, duh.” Ike rolled his eyes. “I know a lot of things.”

“What do you know?” Stan demanded, urgency rising. Maybe Kyle told Ike something. They’d been close, hadn’t they? Maybe they still were. “Ike, if you know something, you need to tell the police.”

“I already spoke to the police,” Ike said, tone unwavering.

“You told them what you know?”

“I told them some stuff I know.”

“Ike, seriously. This is your _brother_. Why are you hiding things?”

“I’m not worried about that,” Ike said, shrugging. “Besides, I like watching idiots try to figure things out. No spoilers, though.”

Before Stan could even think about comprehending what Ike had said, he left the room, slinking across the hallway and back into his own room.

“...What was that?” Wendy asked after a few moments of silence passed. Stan finally looked away from the hallway.

“...I don’t know.” He shook his head, feeling dizzy with confusion. “Dude, I don’t get it. Does _everyone_ know something? Are we the only ones? Is this like- some kind of a messed up game??”

“Not everyone,” Wendy muttered, something thoughtful in her tone. “But I’m getting the feeling that everyone is at least _hiding_ something. Though whether or not it’s the same thing...”

“Kyle was trying to tell me,” Stan said, pressing a hand to his head. His best friend who he’d near forced from his life with a dumb attitude had still trusted him enough to tell him something that important, and he’d blown it. “God, I’m such a fucking _idiot_ -“

“Wait-“ Wendy suddenly moved from the corner of the room over to the broken window, the sound of glass cracking against the carpet soft as she stepped closer. “There’s something...”

Stan frowned but tentatively stepped over to join her, thoughts still spinning as he sought out the few empty patches on the floor. Wendy was bent down slightly, leaning close to something on the window sill.

“...What is it?” Stan asked, voice quiet.

Wendy’s voice was just as hushed when she replied. “I think...it’s blood.”

“Blood-“

Stan took a step back, but was unable to stop his eyes from following to what Wendy was peering at. It wasn’t that clear from where he was standing, but now that she had mentioned it, he could see a dark brown smear by a shard of broken window, near invisible against the wood. It looked almost like- a thumb and a finger print, but dragged along slightly. As if forced away.

“I wonder if the police know about this,” Wendy kept on, though Stan was starting to hear static in his brain. “They must be able to identify who it belongs to. This could be a big clue-!”

“Wendy,” Stan said, voice sounding to him like he was a thousand miles undersea. “I can’t do this.”

“Stan-“

“I can’t do it, Wendy,” he said, hearing his voice crack as he took a step back, heartbeat increasing when he heard another shard snap underneath his weight. “I can’t, I- I just-“

This time, his stomach actually did lurch, and Stan stumbled across the room as fast as he could, thankful that he knew the house well enough to locate the bathroom without a thought. It wasn’t the first time he’d puked here, not by far, but today was definitely the worst he’d ever felt.

“Stan, this isn’t as bad as you think,” Wendy’s voice drifted over to him from somewhere – maybe by the door? – and Stan just shook his head, still kneeled over, unable to stop the tears this time.

“It’s too much,” he managed, gasping. “I can’t do it, dude. I can’t do it.”

“But we’re so close-“

“I don’t want to know anymore,” Stan said, pulling himself up and flushing the toilet with a slam of the lid. “I don’t want to hear- if he’s-“

The rest of that sentence was something he couldn’t even bear to think, let alone say, and Stan just focused on getting out of the room and fleeing the house. Ignoring Wendy as she called after him to wait. Not even muttering to a goodbye to Kyle’s mom, still in the kitchen. Keeping his head down as he walked away from Kyle’s house, away from his own, and away from the rest of the street.

The pangs in his arm weren’t nearly punishment enough.

-

By the time Stan had gathered enough courage and energy to leave the edge of the water, the sun had already begun to dip down, the sign reading ‘Stark’s Pond’ creating a low shadow against the ground. It wasn’t really like he wanted to leave, but he was sure he’d been through every self-depreciating thought in his head three times already, and one of them was the guilt associated with constantly causing his mom to worry. Which she would be, if he didn’t get home before it was dark.

But god, he didn’t want to go home right now. He didn’t want to...didn’t want to be...

Stan tried to focus on the beat of his footsteps rather than anything else, feeling a strange sense of safety as the sun sank lower and lower and the streetlights flickered on around him, already a few minutes away from home. The town was really smaller than it seemed. Especially now he was older. Nobody could hide here, not for long.

He missed when the world started at one corner of the street and ended at the other. He missed when everything seemed to go back to normal by the time the sun went down. He missed being able to enjoy things without worrying about why, or what, or how it would be ten years from then. Missed having regular easy contact with friends.

He missed Kyle.

The sound of a camera shutter brought him out of his thoughts, and Stan glanced up slightly, then more when he saw someone in front of Kyle’s house. Not anyone he recognised, though his heart fell slightly when he realised the guy was just taking pictures of the window. Then Stan frowned. Crime scene or not, it was still Kyle’s house. People still lived there.

“What’re you doing?” he called out as he got closer, shifting so his arm rested more securely against his chest. The stranger jumped slightly, then turned to look at him.

“Oh hey, you live ‘round here?”

“Yeah?” Stan frowned. “Why are you taking pictures?”

“This is where that kid went missing, right?” he asked, far too jovially for Stan’s liking, and he wondered if he should add this guy to the suspects list. “I saw it on the Denver News the other day, thought it seemed pretty interesting.”

“It’s not interesting,” Stan muttered.

“Three kids missing though, I think that’s pretty insane.”

“Yeah, well. Things like that just happen around here. Happen to us.”

“You know any of the kids? They’re about your age, right?”

“I...” Stan glanced at the house, then shoved his hand into his pocket. “I know the kid from here.”

“Shit, really? You guys close?”

Stan stared, hesitating just a little before he answered. “We’re best friends. Closer than anyone else.”

“Man, that’s crazy.” The man shook his head, putting a hand on his hip as he looked to the house. Stan was glad at least they’d already drawn the curtains. “You any idea what happened? It’s not just some dumb kid thing, right?”

“I don’t...know, really. Nobody does.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, sighing. “Still, thought if I could get some pics I could post it on my blog. Nobody’s really been reporting it. Even that Denver News article was hidden at the side, some B plot story amongst everything else. But it’s got like, an atmosphere, right? Missing kids in a mountain town.”

“...I guess.” Stan had forgotten how not everyone was familiar with the ins and outs of South Park. How it was more of a shithole than any kind of aesthetic getaway.

“Hey, if he was your best friend, you must have some stories, right?” the man asked suddenly, turning to Stan. “You know like, something nice, or sad? It’d go well with the scenery.”

The last thing he wanted was to spend the rest of his night talking to some weird outsider guy about his pathetic life for a blog which probably had a collective six followers including the five pornbots, but, at the same time-

This guy didn’t know anything about him. And he didn’t know anything about Kyle. This guy didn’t know they’d ever argued, or how much a failure Stan was, or how the people in the town viewed him. So...

“I...maybe have one thing, I guess,” Stan said, then glanced down. “About how I hurt my arm.”

It wasn’t like anyone here had to know.


	13. (Posted: 28th April, Thursday)

Sometime around seven in the evening, Stan’s phone buzzed.

He looked away from his computer, forgetting about the homework he was doing early because he was just a good student like that, and noticed the text on his screen. The sight of Kyle’s name made him feel just a little uneasy, but it wasn’t like there was any big tension between them. Well, they had argued the night before, but Stan was sure it was an argument that would end pretty soon. Just like all their other arguments.

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Stan asked as he picked up the phone, swivelling around in his chair and glancing at the orange glow outside his window.

“Hey, dude. Can we like…meet up? I wanna talk.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Stan wasn’t really a fan of going out late, but it wasn’t quite dark yet, and he was sure his mom would understand when he told her he was going out just to meet with Kyle. Since, him and Kyle were best friends, and everyone knew that. “Give me a sec.”

It didn’t take him long to get ready, pulling on his coat just in case the night got colder, and waving a goodbye to his parents at the door. They got along well, and they trusted him. It wasn’t really any kind of a problem.

Kyle was already waiting for him, standing in the hazy light with his hands in his pockets, though he waved when he saw Stan. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Stan greeted, then paused, rocking on his heels as Kyle kept quiet. “What…did you wanna talk about?”

“Some stuff.” Kyle shrugged. “You wanna walk?”

“Sure.” Stan followed Kyle as he walked down the path, their shadows trailing behind them in a way that was kind of aesthetic and nice. It felt calming, even though things had been bad between them the night before.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Kyle started, eyes low. Stan glanced over at him. “It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry too. I should’ve…not fucked everything up. ‘Cause I did.”

“You didn’t fuck everything up,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean what I said, I promise. The music was just annoying me, so I said stuff I didn’t mean.”

“Yeah, that music sucked.”

“I was angry, but I’m not anymore,” Kyle said. “Besides, it was one night. It’s not like it’s going to change the rest of our lives.”

“Right,” Stan said, staring over at his best friend. “Because it would suck if something was to happen that meant we couldn’t see each other again and we were left on bad terms for that entire time. That would be really bad.”

“C’mon, that wouldn’t happen, dude.”

“It might.”

“Well it doesn’t matter even if it did,” Kyle said, turning sharply at the corner of the street. “Because we’re not on bad terms anymore. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Stan hesitated for just a moment, then smiled at his best friend, who smiled back easily. “Those parties are always crazy.”

“Too loud,” Kyle nodded in agreement. “Next time, let’s just hang out with each other. We don’t need any of those other guys. Right, dude?”

“Right.” Stan grinned. “Where did you wanna go? Just walk?”

“Just walking is nice, right?” Kyle said, eyes shining as he stared forwards with the sun behind him. “It’s nostalgic.”

“I didn’t know you got nostalgic.”

“Well, sometimes.”

“I do too,” Stan admitted, eyes passing their old elementary school and feeling a pang in his chest, but not in a painful way, since he liked how things were now way more than the simple life he’d had back then. “But I’m not sad when I’m with you.”

And they had talked for even longer after that, footsteps in unison as they made their way around the town, from building to building, talking about all the nice memories they had together. Stan always knew that his best friend was one of those special occurrences that didn’t happen very often, and that was why it was so important to have those kinds of talks. Like, when people talked. They basically fixed everything. And talking was super easy, so being best friends was easy too.

The streetlights were shining brightly by the time Kyle suggested they head back, and Stan could see his breath in the air when he did so. But, part of the sidewalk must’ve been uneven or something, because Stan’s sneaker got caught between one of the slabs, almost yanking his shoe off. Not quite, but it did knock him off his feet and down to the floor.

That part really hurt. His arm really hurt, and it was dark around him.

“Stan!” Kyle yelled, ducking down next to him almost immediately. “Oh no, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Stan said, sitting up slightly and wincing at the sharp twinge in his elbow. He must’ve landed on it when he fell. “Man, that was stupid of me.”

“Not your fault,” Kyle said, scuffing the sidewalk slightly with his shoe. “This town sucks for stuff like that. They put no funding into it. Here, let me help you up.”

Kyle reached out his hand, and Stan took it gladly, standing up easily with the extra support. It was the kind of pain that might’ve had him lying there for some time trying to get his bearings, but since his best friend was there, he didn’t have to do that.

“That was a hard fall,” Kyle said to him, still keeping a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you should get it checked out tomorrow, dude.”

“That’s a good idea,” Stan said. “Thanks for helping me.”

“You don’t have to say thanks, dude,” Kyle said, and smiled again. “I’m just helping you because I’m your best friend.”

“Thanks, dude,” Stan said, and the dark sky was comforting. “Mine too.”

And things were all okay after that. But Stan wasn’t surprised, because that was how it always turned out, when they were together. Because no matter what, they were always there for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmm >://


	14. 29th april, friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw!! please pay attention to all the tags!!

**april 29th, friday**

Someone was banging on his door.

The light creeping in past his curtains doubled the ache in his head, and Stan pulled the covers over himself in an attempt to block out the world. When the knocking continued, he just pressed his eyes shut harder. Not now. Not today.

“Stan?” his mother’s voice called out, before the door cracked open slowly. If she was still here, it had to be too early. “Someone is here for you.”

“Tell Wendy to fuck off,” he mumbled, even the sound of his own voice seeming to intensify the pounding in his skull.

“It’s the police, actually,” his mom said, and Stan pulled the cover off his head.

“What?”

“I don’t really understand what it’s about,” she continued, shaking her head. “But I guess you better go speak to them. Maybe it’s about Kyle?”

“I- yeah- tell them- hang on.” Ignoring the pain in his head and the clink of the empty cans falling off the edge of the bed, Stan sat up, grabbing yesterday’s clothes from the floor.

“Don’t take too long,” his mom said as she turned to leave the room. “They said it’s important.”

_Important,_ Stan thought, feeling dizzy. That didn’t say if it was good or bad. He rushed to get dressed with such speed that he knocked his arm slightly, though it hardly seemed to hurt with the adrenaline running through him. A few minutes more of getting ready, and he was making his way downstairs, still trying to rub away his hazy vision. But it seemed kind of weird. If they’d found something, why would they come to him first? Wouldn’t his mom have heard? Wouldn’t...

When he left through the front door, he could see two officers stood by their car, glancing up at him. Stan frowned as he got closer.

“Stanley Marsh, right?” one of them asked, and he nodded, something feeling strangely reminiscent of back when they first told him to give an interview. “Broflovski’s best friend.”

“Not...really.” Stan glanced warily between the two of them. “I already gave an interview.”

“Yeah, we’re well aware,” the other officer said, taking a step towards him. “And not just to us.”

“What?”

“News gets around fast on the internet,” he said, crossing his arms. “One of the younger guys sent us an article last night, and we’re inclined to believe you were involved.”

“Yeah, I...” Stan stopped. Shit.

“Mind giving us another interview?” he asked, though Stan got the impression it wasn’t really a question. “So you can tell that stuff to us too.”

“...Okay,” Stan said, feeling the energy drain from his body. In his pocket, he felt his phone buzz, and only dared to check once he was seated in the back of the car.

_Wendy shared a link._  
Wendy: What the hell is wrong with you?!   
_Wendy: Is ANYTHING you’ve been telling me so far the truth?_

Stan leant his head back against the seat and groaned.

Great fucking start to the day.

-

Compared to last time, Stan felt even more scrutinised under the stare of the police officer, a mix of guilt and irritation swirling around inside of him as he was forced to repeat the same thing he’d told that random guy last night. Except now it wasn’t lying to a stranger, it was lying to the police. This was- fucked. Not at all what he wanted to be doing.

Stan fumbled through excuses of only having remembered that night recently, and had no idea if they really believed him. Eventually they let him leave after an hour or so, most of which Stan was just sat around feeling tired and cold. They could probably tell he was hungover too, so that was- a bonus, he guessed. Seriously, goddammit.

The house was empty by the time he’d dragged himself back home, the morning sky still bright, and Stan didn’t even bother to change back into his pyjamas as he collapsed down onto his bed, tucking a pillow beside his arm to stop it bothering him as much. His phone buzzed again, and he firmly held down the off button, tossing it onto his dresser. All he wanted was to sleep the rest of today off - if the world was going to let him.

Maybe two minutes or two hours later, somebody was knocking at his door again.

“Tell the police to fuck off,” he called out, half-asleep. The sound of the door being thrown open woke him up a little more.

“It’s not the police, it’s me,” Wendy spat, and Stan breathed in deeply, grabbing his headboard to help pull himself up. When he looked forwards at her, she looked just as angry as she sounded. Great.

“Look, I’m not really...in the mood-“

“Honestly Stan, you could be five seconds from the brink of death and it would not make me _any_ less pissed off with you,” she said, running a hand through her hair and starting to pace around his room. Stan sighed, pulling himself out of the covers.

“Wendy-“

“I really can’t understand you anymore,” Wendy breathed out, finally settling down enough to sit at the end of his bed with her phone out, flicking up and down the article.

“I didn’t think anyone was gonna see it,” Stan tried, but it sounded lame even to him.

“Well, it’s hardly a viral hit, but if you were really thinking a random article with new information _tagged under Kyle’s name_ on Twitter wouldn’t get attention from the police, you have to be lying to yourself.”

“I just...”

“Just what, Stan? Just wanted to try and trick the police? Screw up the investigation? I really thought you wanted to help, but now I feel like I don’t understand at all.”

“I _do_ want to help. I didn’t think anyone would see, seriously.” Stan scowled, looking down. “Is it even that big of a deal? It’s just some…dumb thing I said.”

“ _Yes_ , it’s a big deal,” Wendy said, shaking her head. “You lied to the police!”

“Who the fuck cares! It’s not like it fucking matters. They don’t even care.”

“Right, so we should just throw all our chances away.”

“Look- I don’t know why _you_ care so much anyway,” Stan said, trying to send her a glare that seemed to do nothing. Somehow that just pissed him off more. “It’s weird! It’s fucking- weird, Wendy. Jesus Christ.”

“So I’m weird for trying to help you?”

“Yeah, I mean- you keep saying all this bullshit, like you just wanna know the answer? What, are you that desperate to be superior? Nobody’s allowed to do anything unless you’re the first one to figure it out, right?”

“Fuck _off_ , Stan, don’t try and turn this back on me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Stan narrowed his eyes, sitting up further. “You’re suspicious.”

“ _I’m_ suspicious.” Wendy rolled her eyes. “Right. I’m suspicious. Because I have an alibi, because my parents can and have confirmed my whereabouts to the police, because I can actually _remember_ what I was doing on the day Kyle went missing.”

He stilled, staring at her. “What…are you trying to say?”

“Stan-“ Wendy let out an exasperated sigh, fists clenched on her lap. “I just- I’ve been trying this whole time to convince myself, and- I _really_ don’t want to believe it but…I just don’t understand anymore.”

“…What?”

The look she gave him was halfway between irritated and upset. “I mean, why do you think I asked you to do this with me?”

“…You think-“

“You guys argued, you don’t have any kind of alibi, you turn up the next day with a broken arm, and you ‘ _don’t remember_ ’ anything. Now you’re lying to everyone. Lying to me.”

“It’s not...broken...” Stan gazed at the sling for a moment, before the words really sank in. “You think I’m suspicious?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Wendy said, her voice suddenly dropping in exhaustion.

“You think _I_ did something to Kyle?” The words sounded incredulous even as he said them, a stabbing pain his chest. It twisted further when Wendy didn’t reply, and he couldn’t tell if he wanted to yell or burst into tears. “How could you think that I’d...”

“Not even just the arm, but the drinking, and the phone call,” she said, shaking her head. “And now this. I want to believe in you Stan, but you’re just... _playing_ with me.”

“Dude,” he said faintly, feeling sick. “I would never…”

“I know you wouldn’t, but- you said you were drunk. And you don’t remember anything? If you’re really telling the truth, then how do you know? What if you did something and lost the memory?”

“I…” It felt like water was filling his mouth, clogging his throat and making it hard to talk. “Okay. I lied. I remember. I remember everything.”

Wendy was quiet for a moment, staring at him with a steady gaze, before she sighed and looked away. “I guess I knew that.”

“I didn’t-“ he started to say, then stopped. Didn’t mean to hide anything? Didn’t mean to lie? Except that wasn’t true. And Wendy had probably known that since the start. God, of course she had, she was so smart. How could he ever even have thought he could hide something from her. “I only said those things to that guy because I was upset, okay? I just wanted to...pretend. Pretend it was nice. Pretend I’m not. Like I am.”

“So...what happened?” Wendy asked after a moment. “On that Sunday. You need to tell me Stan, or I’m scared I won’t be able to trust you. And I _want_ to be able to trust you.”

The pulsing of his heart was so strong that Stan was sure Wendy would be able to feel it just by sitting on his bed. There was no point being ashamed or guilty anymore, since she’d basically already figured him out, but it was still so horrible to have to admit aloud. He wished he really couldn’t remember, and that the entire night was lost in a blur of shadows and echoes. Lost to absolute nothingness. Not real.

But he did remember. He remembered it all.

“I didn’t meet up with Kyle on that Sunday.”

“Right.”

“I didn’t even leave the house until like, really late,” Stan muttered. “I wasn’t...feeling good, that night. I kind of...I like, just walked, for a bit. I was kind of sad. Thinking about the stuff Kyle said. And other stuff too, I guess. But mostly that.”

“Your argument?” Wendy asked quietly.

“Yeah. That and- everything else.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed, still keeping his head down. “So like...like at around...1am, or whatever it was, I tried to call him.”

“And he didn’t pick up.”

“Yeah.” Stan was sure Wendy had already guessed that call wasn’t a mistake. It was a stupid idea anyway, since he’d had no idea what he was going to say. Ringing someone at 1am incoherently drunk and crying. It was probably for the best Kyle didn’t pick up.

“And so you fell because you were drunk and upset?”

“I…”

“I need to know the truth, Stan,” Wendy urged, and even without looking up he could sense her oppressive stare, her distrust and anger. “You have to tell me. Tell me about your arm. How did you hurt your arm-?”

“I did it on purpose,” Stan blurted out, face hot with shame. “I- I did it…it was my own fault. Yeah I was drunk and yeah I was upset, but- it wasn’t an accident. I didn’t…”

“You mean-“

“Is that enough?” he asked, looking up with burning eyes. “Are you done interrogating me now? Or do I need to do something else to prove to you I didn’t murder own my _best friend_?”

Wendy moved from the end of the bed, settling beside him. “Stan. You should’ve told me.”

“It was so stupid,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m such a fucking idiot. God, I’m-“

“You don’t have to feel ashamed,” Wendy murmured.

“Yeah well, it didn’t work, so I’m still fucking here.” Stan shook his head, clenching his fist and feeling the dull pain in his arm again. “Here in a world where I’m still fucking stupid and my best friend might be dead because I was too much of an asshole to listen to him, and apparently now everyone thinks I’m the one who fucking killed him.”

“I didn’t mean that, I-“ Wendy sighed. “I’m sorry. I was just- confused. But I understand now. Really, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not fair if I get to live and he dies,” Stan mumbled, pressing his eyes shut.

“Nobody needs to die,” Wendy said, wrapping him into a hug. “Does anyone else know about this?”

“No, not really. I mean- my mom heard me get back at 2am, but I told her I just fell over. She was- really worried.” Stan frowned. “You can ask her if you need evidence I’m telling the truth.”

“After all this clears up, you need to tell someone, Stan. You can get help.”

“I don’t want that,” Stan said. “I just wanna talk to Kyle again.”

It was such a lame thing to say, and he knew it, but it set him off crying like an idiot, and all he could think about was the dim light of the party, the smell of smoke and vodka, too many voices, and the anger in Kyle’s eyes.

When he finally pulled his head up, sniffing, Stan was surprised to see Wendy still frowning sadly. It felt misdirected, and the guilt inside him burned again.

“...Sorry I didn’t tell you,” he murmured, and Wendy shook her head.

“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“Yeah. I know.”

A few more minutes passed as Stan tried to gather himself, trying to tell himself it wasn’t lame to cry. Especially since he’d cried in front of Wendy many times before. It was just- the first time doing it in a long time. In a way, it felt less embarrassing now than it had done back when they were dating. Like he didn’t have to uphold his image or prove anything.

Still, a part of him wished that it was someone else beside him, comforting him, hugging him.

“...I actually had a few things I wanted to talk to you about, but I mean...if today isn’t good, it can wait,” Wendy said then, moving back to give him more room. “About yesterday.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m- I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but if it gets too much, just say.”

Part of him wanted to say he wasn’t that sensitive and it was fine, but considering he literally threw up yesterday, he wasn’t sure he had that right.

Wendy brought her phone back out. “I was able to speak to someone, and it turns out the police already knew about the blood, and tested the fingerprint.”

“...And?”

“It was Kyle’s,” she said, frowning. “So...there’s not really much you can gather from that. He’s the only person we already knew was at the scene.”

Stan sighed, sinking feeling returning. “Yeah.”

“But there’s something else that I wanted to ask you about,” Wendy said, putting her phone down. “I found one of Kyle’s school files that he was using to store assignments.”

“Yeah, he was super nerdy like that,” Stan said, smiling just a little at the memory of watching Kyle meticulously hole-punch and staple all the homework from the week, tucking them into little colour coded sections of a binder. It was amazing he’d managed to keep up with it even in high school.

“Right, but that’s the thing,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows. “All these folders, all neat and organised. But starting from around mid-February, it just stopped.”

“Stopped?”

“Like, every assignment was there. I recognised a bunch of them. But from that point, there was nothing new.”

“Maybe he just didn’t have time?”

“I don’t know,” Wendy said, still with her perplexed expression. “You don’t remember anything happening around February, do you?”

“I mean, we weren’t speaking back then either, so...”

“Hmm. I think we should try to check his locker on Monday, but-“

“I know the combination,” Stan cut in, then flushed at the look she gave him. “I mean, he’s kept it the same since elementary school, so...”

“So long as nobody else disappears before then,” she said. “Which reminds me. I know we’re focusing a lot on Kyle, which seems appropriate considering it’s you I’m working with, but I really want to see if we can get more information on Butters and Craig too. Do you think we could talk to their families?”

“I dunno.” Stan pulled a face. “Pretty sure Craig’s family don’t like me, and I don’t think Butters’ parents like anybody.”

“Maybe Kenny?”

“Kenny, yeah. I think Butters liked him most, the asshole.”

“Okay, then we can try that next,” Wendy said, nodding to herself as she picked her phone back up, presumably to take down a note of what they’d said. Stan watched her type then pause, staring down at her phone with a slightly absent expression. Just when he was about to ask, she turned to him. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

“A walk?” Stan blinked, then frowned. “Uh...not really.”

“Or we could go somewhere, just to get out and clear our minds,” Wendy tried instead, then leaned forwards a little, a glint in her eye. “Don’t tell anyone, but the Polish Literature section at the library has beanbags.”

“...Seriously?”

“Hardly anyone goes there, so most people don’t know.”

“I mean, that’s not really hard to believe.”

“How about we go? Just for a short while.”

Wendy gave him a hopeful smile, and he was pretty sure there was nothing scheming behind it, no secret ulterior motive this time. He supposed that after all, she was still a good person, as strong headed as she might be. And besides, what was his alternative? Probably he’d end up just sat around in the aftermath of feeling miserable, growing more and more listless as he watched videos on his phone, mind stuck on sad thoughts he didn’t want to think about.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll go.”

With a light smile, Wendy stood up, and for maybe the first time since they’d started speaking again, she looked more like a friend than a reporter. “Thanks, Stan.”

-

Compared to the last time they’d gone to the library, things felt a lot more relaxed. Maybe it was because they weren’t sat in the main seating area, or because of the grey from the clouds outside the windows, but Stan didn’t feel even slightly as on edge as he sunk down on the aforementioned beanbags. Pretty good, for a library that probably hadn’t received new furniture since the eighties.

“It’s nice, right?” Wendy asked him as she sat down across from him, next to one of the shelves. “Kind of a hidden gem.”

“So you come here a lot?” Stan glanced over the shelves, the titles and authors all obviously unfamiliar to him. Any book with a surname longer than fifteen letters had a thick layer of dust at the top. “It’s kind of unnecessary, but nice, I guess.”

“I get what you mean,” Wendy said, smiling slightly. “Not a lot of people come to this section.”

“Jeez, that’s a surprise.” Stan leaned over and tilted one of the books out to read the name. “How could you not be interested in- Prezbinzinkwey.”

“You know, that’s _not_ how you say it.”

Stan rolled his eyes, slotting the book back and leaning his head back to watch clouds pass outside. A wave of tiredness washed over him, and he shifted slightly just to make sure he wasn’t so comfortable that he’d fall asleep. If it wasn’t for everything going on, both now and in the past, Stan was sure it would’ve been a nice moment. Just sitting, relaxing in the library, him and Wendy. Maybe Kyle could come too, if they ever saw him again. They could read, and he could zone out, maybe listen to music on his phone.

That would be- really kind of nice. His chest ached with the thought of it.

“...Can I ask you something?” Stan asked, sitting up just a little, unsurprised to find Wendy already with a book in her lap. Thinner than the width of his arm, so he couldn’t be too judgemental.

“Sure, Stan,” she replied cordially, lowering it slightly.

“Is there, like...” Stan fumbled for the right way to phrase it, finding it somewhat ironic that he couldn’t find his words even in a library. “Like, another reason? That you’re so invested in all this.”

Wendy raised her eyebrows. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, just...” He gestured vaguely with his left hand. “All you’ve been doing for the past two weeks is looking into this stuff. You’re super into it, dude, and it just seems like...I dunno.”

“Weird?”

“Well yeah, I said that, but…”

Wendy was quiet for a moment, toying with the corner of one of the pages, though not enough to bend it. “Well...I guess you’re right.”

“Really?” Stan shot her a look, feeling nervous suddenly. She nodded slowly, eyes down.

“I hope it doesn’t sound bad to admit this, but...I really hate the spring break.”

“…Uh, dude, no offence, but that’s the last thing I expected you to say.”

“It’s just-“ Wendy frowned. “There’s nothing to keep my mind focused. I can finish the week’s assignments in a few hours, and after that- then what? What are you even supposed to do in Spring Break?”

“I dunno, sleep? That’s what I do.” Stan watched her face twitch. “Does not having class really stress you out that much?”

“It isn’t the classes, it’s just- doing nothing, I guess.” Wendy looked down at the book. “If I do nothing for too long, I get uneasy.”

“Dude, I can’t even imagine that.”

“And- honestly, it’s hard to find things to do. The girls get together a lot, and sure, I try to join in, but...” She ghosted a hand across the page. “It’s hard to fit in, sometimes.”

Stan stared. “Really?”

“It’s not that we don’t get along, and of course I genuinely enjoy the time we spend together – most of it – but, like- it’s always I’m always having to present myself just a little differently, no matter who it is.” Wendy shook her head. “Sometimes I just want to say something, call something out, but then I become the bitch. And, I mean- you think any of my friends know who Przybyszewski is? They’d think it was a brand of coffee.”

“Kinda sounds like one, though.”

“I just feel so- _outcast_ , sometimes. I can’t tell where I’m supposed to be, or what I’m meant to be doing. Like, I don’t fit in with the girls, but I don’t fit in with all the guys. And- I kind of feel like nobody likes me, sometimes. I’m just annoying to people.”

“Dude.” Stan frowned. “That’s so not true.”

“I’m not sure,” Wendy said, staring down for just a moment. “But doing this kind of thing is a way to escape all that. And I don’t think you judge me in the same way.”

“I don’t.”

“It’s really awful, that all of this has happened- especially considering how upset it’s made so many people-“ Wendy looked at him. “But- it’s nice to have something to give me a little more direction.”

“And I guess you only started hanging out with me because you wanted to check I wasn’t a murderer,” Stan said dryly, only half-joking. Maybe quarter.

“No,” Wendy denied, then paused. “Well, I mean. A little.”

Stan frowned down at himself.

“Not entirely, though. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I feel like you and I kind of have that in common. About not fitting in.”

“How am I not meant to take that the wrong way?”

“I mean like, you sometimes put up that front, like me. You pretend like you’re fed up with everyone and everything, but it’s obvious you still care, Stan. I don’t know if Kyle drilled it into you, but you have pretty strong morals too.”

“No way, dude. Compared to someone like you or Kyle, I’m like...borderline apathetic.”

“Someone like _Craig_ is apathetic, not you.”

“Yeah, well. Craig still has friends, so.”

“You do too,” Wendy said pointedly, and Stan stared at her for a second before diverting his gaze.

“...You know, it’s kind of weird hearing you say all this stuff about insecurity. I always assumed it was like, only people like me that got that stuff. Not people like you.”

“Because I’m a girl?”

“Because you’re _smart_ ,” Stan stressed, shaking his head. “I thought it was just a dumbass thing, like me.”

“I think everyone feels insecure from time to time,” Wendy said, voice as steady as always, no embarrassment in her words. “It’s normal, Stan.”

“Huh.” Stan waited for a moment, then glanced up tentatively. “Uh, we’re not still not dating right?”

“We’re still not dating, Stan,” Wendy said, laughing. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay. Good.”

Wendy shot him a sardonic smile. “Good?”

“You know what I mean, dude.”

“I guess so,” Wendy said, shaking her head. Only a couple of seconds after she turned her gaze back to her book did she look up again, expression shifting slightly. “Stan? Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer or anything. I know I’ve kind of…squeezed a lot of you today.”

“Sure, dude.”

“And I do appreciate you telling me the truth,” Wendy carried on, fiddling with the corner of the page. “I want to be honest as much as I can with you too. And- I guess there’s just one more thing on my mind, that I wanted to ask about-“

“Okay, I get it. Just ask already.”

“Okay, um, sorry if this is- too forward, but...” Wendy shut the book softly. “Do you like Kyle?”

“...Of course I like Kyle, he was my best friend for like fifteen years.”

“No, I mean-“ The blue of her diamond eyes cut into him. “Do you _like_ Kyle?”

“…Dude,” Stan said, glancing away. “That’s- I don’t get what you mean.”

“That’s a weak way of avoiding the question,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “But I was just asking. You always had this way of looking at each other, and sometimes it feels like you’re only really happy when you’re around him. And when we were dating, you always wanted to hang out with him more than me…I mean, I even used to get jealous because you were just so adoring of him and I was like ‘do I need to dye my hair red or-‘”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Stan flushed, ducking his head down.

“I just thought maybe, but…it’s okay if you don’t want to say.”

“No, I mean- it’s not that- I just…don’t know??” Stan swallowed, focusing hard on the books next to him. “It’s not like it’s serious or anything. Does it even matter??”

“You _do_ like him.”

“I mean, it’s gonna pass,” he muttered. “It’s just- a dumb crush? Not a big thing. Just...I don’t know, is it that weird? Like, it’s Kyle, so...”

“It’s not weird.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Stan said, and it really didn’t. “I mean, I already tried to say something to him, but...I was drunk, and he didn’t...”

That night was another he didn’t really like to recall. Probably not quite as bad as the party a couple weeks ago, but definitely close. And he’d been feeling pretty shit long before he got there, and the alcohol was making everything worse rather than better. Stan remember how somewhere in the haziness, a wave of heartache had overpowered him, and he’d stumbled across the room and tried to find the right words, tried to explain that pain in his chest.

_“Kyle,”_ he’d slurred, one hand against his shoulder. _“Kyle, I’m-...I’ve...”_

But the words hadn’t come out. It hadn’t worked.

_“What are you talking about?”_ Kyle had asked, frowning as he took a step back. _“I can’t believe you’re this drunk, dude. Didn’t you say you weren’t gonna do this again?”_

Stan sighed, leaning back against the beanbag. It was getting darker outside, the threat of rain growing.

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “He’s not here anymore, and even if he was, he hates me. I’m not...”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“He said he never wanted to see me again.”

“People say stuff they don’t mean, Stan.” Wendy shook her head. “Even if you’re not entirely sure, I don’t think you should give up on your feelings that easily.”

“It’s not like I didn’t try,” Stan huffed, then glanced up. “...Would you be mad if I did like him?”

Wendy quirked down an eyebrow. “Why would I be mad?”

“I dunno. We used to date, so like- I dunno. I’m not _gay_ or anything. I was totally in love with you when we went out.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Wendy smiled wryly.

“Besides, Kyle is kind of like boy-you anyway. It just- makes sense. Not my fault.”

“...Okay, putting that comment aside-“ Wendy started, sitting up slightly. “Whether it passes quickly or not- you still _care_ about Kyle, right? You don’t have to be _in love_ with him to love him. And I think it’s the same for him, too. Even if you fight.”

Stan kept his eyes down. “Mmm.”

“But I think you’d be happy with him. Like, _with_ him.”

“I dunno.” The thought of it made him feel kind of sick, and panicked. But also kind of- nice.

“What did you two even fight about anyway?” Wendy asked then. “I don’t think anyone actually ever said.”

“It was stupid, it was just-“ Stan’s mouth fell shut almost involuntarily, guilt clogging his throat. “...I’d rather not talk about it, honestly.”

“That bad?”

“More just...it’s not just my thing to tell, you know? Feels wrong, I dunno.”

“No, I guess I understand,” Wendy said. “I’ve probably done enough prying today, anyway.”

“You’ve been prying this entire time,” Stan said, but could tell Wendy caught the humour in his tone.

“I’m glad we can be friends again,” she said, pulling up her legs slightly. “And I’m glad you’ve been doing better lately.”

Stan kept quiet, glancing down to his arm, then back up at the window. Even if the mood between them was calm, and he didn’t feel so upset anymore- he just kind of wished there was one more person there with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this chapter isn't too clunky lol ;x; it was a tough one!!!!


	15. 17th april, sunday (part one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> even bigger tw!! please pay attention to all tags!!

**april 17th, sunday (part one)**

Nothing in life was fucking worth anything.

Stan tilted his head so far back that his neck hurt, feeling the last few pathetic drips of his drink hit his tongue. With a heavy movement, he let his arm and the can hit the floor, though he kept his head back against the door. It was uncomfortable, and the frame was pressing into his spine, but he couldn’t find it in him to move.

Besides, when he did eventually get up, there was only one place he could go. That was how he’d ended up down on the floor anyway; running out of energy before reaching the door handle and dropping down, jacket still over his shoulders. It turned out to be for the best anyway, since he’d realised his parents hadn’t gone to bed yet. That was a thought that only hit him as he heard the footsteps on the stairs and soft voices, and had instantly burst into tears all over again.

Seriously, it was so fucking pointless. The thought of him, and the thought of them- they were all just as bad as each other. Stan didn’t care. They didn’t care. Just like everyone else in the world, they were all faking it and waiting for someone else to crack instead so they could feel better about themselves. But, fuck. Stan guessed the one cracking was him this time, because he’d totally had enough.

It was past eleven when Stan finally heard silence settle through the house, and he pulled himself up before he could find another reason not to. The beer can from before rolled across his carpet as he did so, and Stan narrowed his eyes at the sound of a drop still inside. How the fuck he’d managed to miss that, he had no idea. Maybe because of how fuzzy his head felt right now. Kind of like it was lagging a few seconds behind. But not in the good way.

It took him two attempts to even get the door open, and he tried his best not to stumble down the stairs once he was out, feeling unbalanced in a way that made him want to throw up again. Once the cool air of the night hit his cheeks, it steadied him just a little, and he blinked away some of the blurriness in his eyes.

Stan set off walking before he’d even fully figured out where he was, focusing on staying on the sidewalk and not tripping into the road like some kind of idiot. Passing Kyle’s house just made his eyes well up again, and he hurried past, sparing one glance before ducking his head back down. He’d probably be asleep. He probably didn’t want to hear anything Stan had to say. Not anymore.

God. Fuck. Life was so shitty. Passing the elementary school reminded him of how shitty it was as a kid, and just being alive was enough to know it was shitty now. Everything could just fucking disappear and he wouldn’t care. Who would care. Nobody. Why would they. Nobody would care if he disappeared, either. He was so drunk.

All of the town rolled by, from the shops and the signs and houses and empty roads. It was stupid, but the sight of it just made him tear up. He’d spent his whole life here. Everyone he knew lived here.

And it was all worth nothing.

By the time he reached the bridge, Stan’s legs were ready to collapse, trembling as he stared off the side. It didn’t look deep, all murky and black but not vicious, and Stan distantly tried to remember the last time it had rained. But days had started to kind of stick together, and he really didn’t know whether it was yesterday or last week that the clouds had last opened up.

It was really lonely here. Stan realised it after a moment of staring off the edge, one arm dangling down over the stiff wood of the railings, hearing nothing but the water around him. Trees behind him, a town at sleep on the other side. Alone in the darkness. It wasn’t just lonely, it was- scary.

Fuck, it was really scary.

Stan stared for a moment longer before all his resolve seemed to break, crumpling down onto the rough tarmac of the bridge and holding his head in his hands. Crying was dumb, and pointless, but he didn’t have any energy left to hold it back anymore. He didn’t want to be here in the middle of the night, and didn’t want to be all alone.

How had it even gotten to this point? Wasn’t he still a kid like, two weeks ago? Wasn’t it just another kind of bad Tuesday night, and Kyle and everyone else would be waiting for him at the bus stop in the morning? Wasn’t his best friend going to stare at him with sharp eyes in the early sun and tell him he looked like shit and console him with some dog video he found the night before? Wasn’t he going to laugh it off? And everything go on as normal?

Why was it so wrong? Stan gripped his hands harder against his head, squeezing his eyes shut though he was hardly even trying to stop the tears by this point. It was pretty obvious why everything was so wrong, he guessed. His fault. Everything was his fault. It always had been, even before. Especially now. Fuck. _Fuck_.

Stan scrambled for his phone, squinting at the bright light against the darkness and struggling to navigate the screen with uncoordinated fingers and smudged vision. But it wasn’t too hard to find Kyle’s name, since he used to click it all the time. Dead of night, first thing in the morning. Sober. Drunk. Everything in between.

Stan bit his lip as he pressed the call button, shoulders shaking as he pressed it against the side of his head. It was so stupid, because Kyle was definitely asleep, and wouldn’t want to be woken up, especially not for a dumb reason like this. Probably pick up to nothing but gross sniffing and half-syllables caught in his throat. Call him an asshole and hang-up, like he deserved. Deserved- everything. But he needed to apologise first, before it finished for good. Had to say sorry. Had to-

The tone beeped twice more, then ended. Stan pulled the phone away, clicked the red button, and then curled up and cried like his heart was going to tear its way straight out of his throat. Maybe it would. Maybe they’d find him lying here tomorrow, puddles of blood, heart in the water.

Maybe they’d never find him at all.

Stan lifted his head, staring again at the dark water down below.

_I hope we never see each other again. I don’t know why I thought I wanted to talk to you._

Hadn’t he already missed his chance to apologise?

_Never want to see you again. Never want to talk to you again._

Wasn’t it already too late?

_Hope we never see each other again. Hope I never see you again._

Stan pulled himself up, phone still on the bridge, and stared off over the side, only hearing the rushing in his ears. Maybe he’d never be happy – he’d already learnt to accept that a long time ago.

_Never want to. Hope I don’t._

But there was a difference between poisoning himself, and poisoning everyone around him. Stan felt dizzy as he looked down, right hand doubling in his vision as he stretched it out towards the water so far away.

If he was always so selfish-

_Never._

-maybe this time he could finally do something for someone else’s sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if there's a lie there's a truth :c


	16. 30th april, saturday

**april 30th, saturday**

Honestly, Stan wasn’t sure this was all that good of an idea.

Wendy had sounded convincing enough when she had lightly suggested that instead of her, Stan attempt a trip with Clyde over to Craig’s house, with the notion that it would be easier to go with someone Craig’s family knew better and trusted more. Except- Stan didn’t really want to.

Not that he had anything against Clyde; they’d shared a good number of detentions in the past, and used to even hang out from time to time, but- something about him right now was hard to trust. The way he was obviously going around carrying secrets and acting all upset...and that wasn’t even mentioning the fact he’d been at Kyle’s house during the time he’d gone missing.

_Wendy: I understand how you feel, but it’s not like it’ll take that long.  
Wendy: Besides, maybe you can get something out of him? Without the others around._

Stan fumbled with his phone as he waited outside his house, staring down at the messages he’d never replied to. He didn’t disagree with Wendy, but also didn’t want to seem like he was any more willing than he was, so. ‘Left on read’ described his feelings best.

It wasn’t entirely clear to him how Wendy had managed to rope in Clyde behind the others’ backs, though he was pretty sure it was something to do with Bebe. Even if Wendy said she was distanced from people, Stan was sure she was still the best at finding ways to contact others. Stan smiled just a little at the thought. If she really ended up becoming a reporter, she’d have a hell of a portfolio after they solved all this.

The sound of slow and hesitant footsteps made him look up, and Stan tried to keep a steady face as Clyde approached, teeming with awkwardness. It was a guilty face if Stan ever saw one, though he guessed he had to try and put his judgement aside.

“Hey, Stan...” Clyde greeted after a moment, shoulders shifting as he kept his hands in his pockets. “It’s been a while, huh.”

“I guess.”

“Wendy said you wanted to meet. Well, I mean- she said...she wanted me to...”

“Are you gonna come to Craig’s house with me?” Stan asked, noticing how Clyde frowned at the mention of the name, eyes dipping down.

“Yeah, guess so,” was all he said, and remained silent as they set off walking at a pace slower than Stan would’ve liked. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable silence, but Stan preferred that to mindless talking. But Clyde didn’t seem to share that preference, as he spoke up again when they were only halfway down the street. “Are you sad?”

Stan gave him his best ‘what-the-fuck’ look. “What?”

“I dunno. Are you sad about this stuff? ‘Cause I am.”

Memories of Clyde crying on Bebe’s shoulder flashed up. “Yeah, I know.”

“Yeah you’re sad and you know that I’m sad too, or just yeah you know I’m sad?”

Stan put a hand up against his forehead. “Dude, what’re you talking about right now?”

“Sorry,” Clyde muttered, then was silent for a few more seconds. “...To be honest, I’m kind of worried about going to Craig’s house.”

Stan frowned. “Why are you going then?”

“I- I dunno, dude. It’s hard to explain?” Clyde shook his head. “I wanna know more. Feel like my best friend just- left me behind. Don’t you feel like that too?? With Kyle?”

“...Kind of,” Stan said quietly.

“I should’ve done more,” Clyde said sadly, dropping his head down, and Stan chose not to continue that topic. It was uneasy, but he couldn’t think of the right thing to say that wouldn’t risk the conversation turning back on him.

Luckily, Craig’s house wasn’t too far from his own, so Stan didn’t have to suffer in the tense silence for too long. Similar to how he’d been with Wendy, Stan lingered behind Clyde as he knocked on the door, Clyde still looking as mournful as it had been five minutes ago. If Craig’s parents saw him like that, they were definitely going to think he was here to spread more bad news. Here to confess something.

The door swung open and Stan hunched his shoulders, then instantly relaxed again when he realised who was standing there.

“...It’s you two,” Craig’s younger sister said, staring up at them with expressionless eyes.

“Oh, Tricia,” Clyde said, visibly brightening. “Uh, your mom and dad home?”

“No,” she said, then folded her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Why are you here? Is it about my brother?”

“Uh...kind of?”

Tricia glanced from Clyde, to Stan, and then back again. “Did you guys kill him?”

Stan blinked, and Clyde looked aghast. “What- no!”

“That’s what people are saying,” Tricia continued, shrugging. “You-“ She pointed at Stan. “And you. Even the police are saying so.”

“Dude, we didn’t kill your brother,” Stan said, frowning.

“Yeah, like- how would we even do that??” Clyde asked, looking genuinely concerned. “Where would we hide the _body_?”

“I dunno, you tell me,” Tricia said, but didn’t look like she was that interested. Stan wondered if apathy ran in the family. “So, what do you want?”

“Uh, can we ask you some stuff?” Clyde tried, still looking shaken. “And look in Craig’s room? Is that okay?”

“I guess,” Tricia said, stepping aside in a way that Stan only guessed was an invitation to enter when Clyde hurried inside the house. Stan followed in slowly, trying to remember the last time he’d been here. God, it had to be what, like- five, six years?

“You guys are lucky,” Tricia said as she fell down against the sofa, the TV off. “You got three days off school.”

“Yeah, but I mean...we have to go back on Monday.”

“Yeah, ‘cause three people went _missing_ ,” Stan added, just in case the other two people in the room had forgotten, which they seemed to have done.

“Only ‘cause you killed them,” Tricia droned, and Stan let out a hard sigh.

“Are you going to keep saying that?”

“Probably.”

“We didn’t kill anyone,” Clyde whined, sounding teary again. “We just wanna ask if you know what happened to Craig.”

“Beats me,” Tricia said. “He was arguing with my dad, like always, and then left. Didn’t come back.”

“What were they arguing about?” Clyde asked, edging closer to the sofa but not sitting down. Stan stayed by the door, though he at least made the decision to close it.

Tricia made a face, eyes on the ceiling. “I dunno. Dumb stuff.”

“Can you try and remember?” Clyde asked. “It might be- important!”

“I doubt it. They were arguing way before the Kyle kid went missing.”

“But maybe it was a big lead up...” Clyde muttered, face suddenly sullen again. “I should’ve done more...”

“Probably,” Tricia said, shrugging. “Ask Tweek. He probably knows.”

“Why Tweek?” Stan asked, and Tricia stared at him as if he was stupid.

“Because they were dating, duh.”

“Tweek and Craig were dating?!” Clyde’s shock seemed to overtake any awkwardness he was feeling about the situation, flying over to the sofa and leaning closer to Tricia. “You’re kidding. No way!”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know if it was an actual thing, but _I_ thought so.”

“They never told me...” Clyde murmured, now hanging his head sadly. Stan shifted slightly.

“Uh, are you sure? Wouldn’t that make them like...gay?”

“Two guys spending that much time together _is_ gay,” Tricia said, rolling her eyes. “Haven’t you ever been on the internet? It’s basically the law.”

“This doesn’t sound that reliable,” Stan muttered, shoving his hand into his pocket.

“I knew there were rumours about Craig being gay back in seventh grade, but I thought those were just started by Cartman ‘cause he ate the last slice of cake at the Christmas party...” Clyde shook his head. “I really am a bad friend...”

“Did you ever see them like- kiss or anything?” Stan asked, feeling weird just at the thought of it.

“No, but I don’t need to,” Tricia said flatly. “It was obvious.”

“Clyde, I don’t know if we can really trust this,” Stan said, frowning. “I feel like we should just like...ask Tweek, or something.”

“Yeah,” Clyde said, pulling himself up slowly. “I can’t believe they’d really hide something like this from me...”

“Well, they had to hide it from everyone, of course,” Tricia continued. “That’s what makes it a gay romantic love affair.”

“A gay romantic love affair...” Clyde repeated sullenly. Stan put a hand to his head again.

“Look, can we just look in Craig’s room? See if there’s anything up there?”

“Sure, I don’t care.” Tricia pulled out her phone from her hoodie pocket, apparently already set to ignore them. “I’m telling you though, you won’t find any evidence. My dad gets pissed off by that stuff.”

“That’s so sad...” Clyde muttered. “I wonder if that’s why he disappeared?”

“Dude, you’re literally going off rumours here,” Stan said.

“Rumours are true sometimes!”

“There’re rumours that you killed someone,” Stan reminded him. “And me too.”

“Those ones don’t spread well though,” Tricia piped up. “To be honest, I would be more invested in a gay love affair than a murder mystery.”

“You could totally have both,” Clyde said, looking thoughtful. “Dude-“

“Okay, can we go look in Craig’s room now?” Stan asked, quickly growing impatient, and half-aware this conversation could just as easily turn about whatever ‘gay love affair’ he and Kyle were having too. Stan knew those rumours existed. He’d heard them. That was how he knew rumours were bullshit.

...Though, he supposed, they did kind of have a basis...

“Right, let’s go check.” Clyde nodded at him, turning and running up the stairs as if he was in his own house. Well, not that it was weird. Stan felt the same way at Kyle’s. Or- used to.

“You’re not gonna find anything,” Tricia said, following after the two of them upstairs, albeit with slightly less energy. Once they were up, she threw out a hand to point to a closed door at the end of the hallway. “That’s Craig’s room.”

“Duh, I know that,” Clyde said.

“Murderer Number One doesn’t.”

“You’re seriously going to keep calling me that?” Stan asked, and Tricia just shrugged as Clyde shot over to the room. “Y’know, you don’t seem to be very worried.”

“I’m worried,” Tricia said, with a tone that suggested otherwise. “But I’m not worried about my stupid big brother. He’s not dramatic enough to actually get murdered.”

“Then who are you worried about?”

“Myself.” Tricia crossed her arms. “If Craig doesn’t come back, it’s my job to clean Stripe’s poop.”

“Jesus, he still has that thing?”

“Number seven. But five was my favourite.”

“Craig’s a real weirdo, huh,” Stan said without thinking, then paused. “Uh- sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Definitely.” Tricia nodded in agreement. “That’s why Tweek is the only one who could fall in love with him.”

Stan chose that moment to detach himself from the conversation, heading to Craig’s room where Clyde was already rummaging through the wardrobes. It was a complete contrast to Kyle’s room where everything strewn and broken across the floor. Here it was all neat and tidy, absolutely nothing out of line. Stan raised an eyebrow.

“It seems normal in here.”

“Craig likes cleaning,” Tricia said, appearing behind him. “I used to give him my allowance so he’d clean my room, but I’m pretty sure he’d have done it for free. What a freak.”

“This is my math book,” Clyde announced tearfully as he lifted up a blue book from within the wardrobe, holding it against his chest. Then he frowned, glancing at it. “Actually, I was looking for this.”

“I guess there’s nothing in here of any use,” Stan sighed, staring at the still-made bed.

“You could say that even if Craig was still in here,” Tricia said, eyes bored as they wandered around the room. “Did you know Karen said Kenny said Butters was killed by his parents?”

“ _What?_ ” Stan turned to her, trying to comprehend such a wild and sudden statement. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” Tricia shrugged. “Some people think our parents killed Craig too, but that’s obviously not true ‘cause they didn’t even follow him after he left the house.”

“What the hell-“ Stan shook his head. He really needed to speak to Kenny. God, screw that guy for never seeming to be around. And, on a lesser level, screw him for donating any money for a cell phone to Karen so she could buy her own. Really selfless, but made him such a bitch to get a hold of. Stan always felt on edge going down to the traintracks.

“Murder’s kind of intense, right?” Clyde asked, looking worried as he kept picking through Craig’s things. Stan was starting to get the impression he was just digging around out of nosiness rather than for any kind of investigative purpose. “Maybe he just-...I dunno. Doesn’t have to be murder, though.”

“That guy’s parents are creepy,” Tricia said, wrinkling her nose. “I could see them killing someone.”

“You believe a lot of rumours, you know,” Stan said.

Tricia shrugged. “Gossip is gossip.”

“Craig used to say that too,” Clyde said, grinning a little. “He liked rumours.”

“Not about himself.”

“Well, yeah, but nobody does, right?” Clyde paused. “Actually, I liked the one about me having a six pack, even if it only lasted until the first gym class of the week.”

“Anyway, Craig will have to come back soon, or else he’ll miss his wedding with Tweek.”

“They’re getting _married?!”_

Stan groaned, leaning his head back. “Do you have anything useful to tell us?”

“I dunno,” Tricia said, pulling out her phone again. “My parents are gonna be back soon, so you should probably go. They’ll be pretty pissed.”

“Are they worried about Craig?”

“Well, yeah, duh. They’re freaking out.” Tricia stared at him. “Do you only care ‘cause that Kyle guy went missing too?”

“No,” Stan lied.

“But you and my brother weren’t friends.”

“Well, no, but...”

“I bet you totally murdered him.”

“I didn’t murder anyone!” Stan huffed, turning away from her to face Clyde. “Dude, you ready to go?”

“Aww.” Clyde looked mildly disappointed as he stopped holding one of Craig’s shirts against himself as if to see if it’d fit, placing it back in the wardrobe less organised than it had been before. “I guess. We really gotta go?”

“Stay if you want, but I don’t really wanna be around here when Craig’s parents get back.”

“They might kill you,” Tricia added. “Then you guys can be the fourth and fifth disappearances. I can put a note on Instagram for you.”

“Uh, no thanks.” Stan took a final look around the room, trying to see if there was anything he could use. Craig’s sister might’ve had good information, but then again, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to put all his truth in baseless rumours. Or- half-baseless?

Either way, it was normal in here. Just looked like Craig had gone out for ten minutes and would be back soon. Thinking that he hadn’t been here in almost two weeks was- an ominous thought. At least at Kyle’s house it _looked_ like something was wrong.

It was only as Stan was leaving did he remember suddenly – didn’t Tweek say Craig hated to clean? But his room was so tidy. Maybe his parents? Stan frowned as he walked back down the path, Clyde already returned home. It seemed weird. Maybe he needed to try talking to Tweek again. At some point, they had to break free from this circle of repetition, right? _Something_ had to change. Hopefully sooner, rather than later.

-

The night had already set in when Stan decided to emerge from upstairs, hoping to scrounge the fridge for something he could make in twenty minutes or less. It was probably still lazy, but better than surviving off just his mom’s leftovers. Somehow he’d been feeling just a little more energised lately, like it didn’t take literally all his energy just to roll out of bed.

The quiet of the living room was the first thing to let him know that was something wrong, and Stan was unsurprised to see his mom sat on the sofa, book in her lap with the TV off for once. The soft sound of the page turning felt so loud against the emptiness that Stan almost felt uncomfortable, standing awkwardly between the stairs and the kitchen. When his mom looked up at him, he could see the red marks around her eyes.

“...Uh, hey,” he said, rocking between his feet. She looked up with a small smile.

“Oh, hello, Stanley. Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Back to school soon, huh.” His mom’s smile grew a little pained. “Guess things have...well, not exactly gone back to normal, but...”

Stan though what she meant, even though neither of them said it aloud. It had been six days since the last disappearance, which was the biggest gap since all of this had started. Probably not long enough to say things were over, but... “Yeah, for now, I guess.”

“Hey,” his mom said then, shutting her book with a gentle sound. “You wanna- go get McDonalds, or something?”

Stan stared, frowning slightly, still feeling the kitchen behind him. “...Sure? Uh, I didn’t think you...liked that stuff.”

“Well, it’s fine once in a while, right?” She tried a larger smile, though Stan still wasn’t really buying it. The lack of his dad seemed too all apparent. “It can be a treat for you. I figure you need some cheering up, after all.”

Stan didn’t say anything in reply to that, wondering who it really was who needed cheering up here. All he’d done was come down from his room and she’d already decided that he needed it. Though, he guessed from how he’d been the past few weeks...or even, the past few months...

It was probably the least he could do.

-

Bright lights bounced off the still wet roads outside, and Stan leaned his head against the car window, trying not to think of police sirens. Something about nights like this just made him feel like something bad was going to happen, whilst all the roads were still coated in darkness. Like someone was just going to run up to the car and declare mass emergency, or they’d end up smashing into some dumb driver with no lights on. It was just...that kind of a night, he guessed. Eerie. Kind of wrong.

Maybe his mom noticed his discomfort, because she glanced over to him whilst they waited at the intersection, indicator ticking on. “How’s your elbow been? Giving you any trouble?”

Stan didn’t take his gaze away from the window, trying not to focus on his reflection. “It’s fine now. I mean- mostly. Doesn’t really hurt unless I move it, so...yeah. Fine.”

“I can book you another appointment if you want to get it checked up on again.”

“...Okay.” Even if almost the whole town had seen the sling by now, he definitely wasn’t opposed to getting it taken off. Though, it was still hard to forget that twining pain from the other day. “But maybe not this week.”

“Alright.”

A somewhat uncomfortable silence set in between them, and Stan couldn’t help shift his stare from the streaks of light outside to his own guilty face, sling tucked in beneath his jacket. He knew his mom probably wanted him to talk about it more, considering how weak his excuse had probably sounded that night when he came home with damp clothes and slurred words, but...he wasn’t sure if he could manage saying it. It had been hard enough to tell Wendy. His mom would...she’d probably blame herself. He couldn’t do that.

Instead, he moved to an almost as uncomfortable topic, feeling as though his words mattered less with the streetlights and road signs rolling past into the darkness. Like they’d roll away with them.

“...Hey, are you and dad okay?”

“Oh, we’re okay,” his mom replied lightly, though her words didn’t sound entirely honest. “We just- fight sometimes, you know? It’s just what adults do.”

“Why do you stay together if you don’t like each other?”

“Stanley, it’s more complicated than that.”

“Is it?”

“It’s just- I don’t know.” More clicking as they paused at another corner. “It’s just easier to stay sometimes, you know?”

Stan frowned, staring back down to the puddles on the road. Long ago, it was something he would’ve adamantly disagreed with, saying his mom was stupid for staying somewhere she was unhappy. Letting things pass her by when she had the power to change. But- he couldn’t say that anymore. Not without being a hypocrite. Where was he in life? What was he doing?

He supposed they were related, after all.

Though his mom had taken the effort to drive him out, she apparently didn’t want to take the effort to actually get out the car, which Stan was immensely grateful for. Watch some girl from his school be at the counter and give him a judgemental look for being eighteen and having his mom buy him a Big Mac. At least in the car he could hide in the shadows, face hidden.

It felt like the cola was burning his mouth as Stan leaned against the glass, food balanced in his lap, tucked underneath his sling. His mom had just got some light option that Stan didn’t even realise was a thing, and they ate in silence. If it was a treat, it didn’t feel like a very happy one.

Change was a shitty thing, and Stan had always tried to avoid it as much as he could. Doing things to try and keep the status-quo and to stop things from becoming unfamiliar. Standing still in a stupid hope to not be left behind. But- where had that left everyone else? His parents had stayed still, and stayed in their same unhappy place. Sat on a Saturday night with dried tears, a book, and a failing marriage.

Stan didn’t want that. And only partly because he really hated reading.

“Mom,” Stan started, letting the straw fall away from his lips. “...Can I retake the year?”

“What?” He felt his mom turn to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“Like, redo my final year.” He gave a small shrug. “If I can.”

“Oh, but- surely you’re not going to fail?”

“No, but...” He breathed in. “I kind of...messed stuff up. My grades are gonna be bad.”

“You’re really sure you want to do another year?”

“I mean, I don’t _want_ to-“ The thought of having to spend another year in high school surrounded by kids a year younger than him, watching everyone else he knew move on- that was shitty, but...what was the alternative? Keep watching everyone move on for the rest of his life? “I feel like it’s the best thing to do, y’know? Maybe I can even go to college if I retake the year.”

“You want to go to college?”

“I dunno.” Stan took another sip. “Just...want the choice, I guess.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” his mom said. She still sounded unsure, but not resistant. “Have you been doing okay, lately? I was meaning to ask.”

“Yeah?”

“I just...sometimes feel like you’re not telling me much,” she said, shaking her head. “You go out late, you meet up with people I had no idea you were still talking to- I thought Kyle going missing would be tough for you, but you seem...I don’t know. Different.”

“I just...it is upsetting me- but-“ Stan frowned. “We’re kind of trying to figure it out.”

She sighed. “I thought it might be something like that. But Stanley, please don’t get involved in anything dangerous. The police can handle things.”

They so couldn’t. “Yeah, I know. It’s not dangerous.”

“Promise me.”

“...I promise,” Stan muttered, hand twitching around his cup. In the haze of the light brightening up the sky, he could see the dark clouds rolling by. Moving onwards.

 _I don’t want to keep running away_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know she hardly even has a canon personality, but i like writing craig's little sister lol;; i think they'd have an interesting brother-sister dynamic!! especially considering how craig is lol >>


	17. 1st may, sunday

**may 1st, sunday**

Back in sixth grade, there had been a rumour around the school that if someone was standing at the edge of Stark’s Pond at exactly six in the morning, a ghost would appear.

Well, some people had said ghost, and some people had said demon. Stan was pretty sure Cartman had said monster, and a few of the girls had said it was just a curse that made you inhumanly ugly. Stan had asked Kyle what he thought, and he’d replied that rumours were stupid, and there was no way it was true. Stan had agreed, and they’d laughed behind the others’ backs about how dumb everyone else was.

That was exactly the reason why they’d decided in unison one night, when they realised they’d already stayed up until five just playing video games, to go out and check. Just because. Probably no-one else in their class had done it, so...

It had been 5:20am when they’d arrived, and Kyle had slunk down beside the edge of the water, so Stan had followed. It had been eerily quiet, though Stan hadn’t really felt that creeped out. If anything, they were more likely to see some homeless flasher guy than any kind of demon.

_“I don’t get what the big deal is about this place,”_ Kyle had said, hunching up his knees against his chest. _“People always make up these dumb rumours. I don’t get it.”_

_“I guess ‘cause it’s like, creepy? Or something.”_

_“So is everywhere in this town,”_ Kyle said, huffing _. “Remember when Butters got sick for a week, and everyone said he’d been drowned here?”_

Stan had laughed. _“Yeah.”_

_“So dumb,”_ Kyle said, rolling his eyes. _“Everybody’s crazy here. One day I’m gonna fuck off and leave before my brain turns to mush and I start to believe rumours about ugly curses.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Yeah, dude. No way am I staying here.”_

They had managed to linger for a few more minutes before it started to rain, and only a few more after that did they decide to give up, and tell everyone they’d stayed until six and seen nothing and that it was all bullshit. They’d had to hurry back to Stan’s house, soaking wet, changing clothes before his mom could come out and tell them off for going out so early. By the time she’d woken up, they were already dry, sat together on the sofa rewatching episodes of whatever cartoon was on the TV that morning, though Stan couldn’t remember it now. They’d convinced her they’d just woken up early, though Stan wasn’t sure she really bought it.

He’d lasted until almost eight before passing out, convinced he’d be able to make it the entire day without any sleep before it hit him suddenly at the first lull of his head. Maybe Kyle had endured it longer, or maybe he’d fallen asleep first, but when Stan’s mom came in to scold them for sleeping so late, he’d woken up to see Kyle’s head on his shoulder, tired eyes blinking open. The sound of the rain outside.

Stan could hear it now too as he stirred awake, taking a moment to remind himself that he wasn’t twelve anymore, and that Kyle wasn’t beside him. Without checking his phone, he twisted himself out of bed, giving his arm a gentle pat when it didn’t pang with any kind of pain. It wasn’t hurting as much anymore, and Stan wondered if it’d be finally over when he went to that next doctor’s appointment. Having two arms again was probably going to feel weird.

Something was making him more energised than usual that morning, and he was able to get through the normal morning routine without even thinking too much. It was starting to feel less like a drag, to the point he wasn’t even dreading going back to school tomorrow that much. A little. But- not as much.

Light rain was coming down outside, and Stan sat on his bed and watched for a few minutes, hair still wet from the shower. Probably no point drying it when he was just going out again. Part of him kind of wanted to stay inside, but he also wanted to go outside with the bad weather. Something about going in the rain was like...nostalgic, in a way? Since he never really went out anymore. Or- used to not go out.

But today he was going to visit Kenny’s house, for the first time in a while. Mostly because Kenny’s house made him uneasy, only partly because Kenny himself had always been uncomfortable with the idea of anyone coming over, even back when he was a kid. Still, Stan figured he wouldn’t mind too much. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been there before. They all used to know everything about each other, the good and the bad.

It kind of sucked they’d fallen apart.

Stan sighed just a little as he stood up, tearing his gaze away from the window and giving his phone a quick check. A few basic texts from Wendy, and nothing else. He’d already told her the plan for today, and she was fine just to leave it to him again. Not that he could do anything as useful as her in terms of investigating, but- well, it might still help. Besides, he kind of just wanted to see Kenny, too.

The TV was on when he came downstairs, his dad sprawled out on the sofa, and Stan didn’t invite any conversation as he headed straight for the door. An umbrella was leaning against the wall, and Stan made a grab for it before realising he had no idea how to put it up with only one hand, and would much rather risk influenza than ask his dad for help. Instead, he just flipped his jacket hood up, and set out into the rain.

Even though it was only at most a ten minute walk to Kenny’s house, Stan was still glad for the relatively weak rainfall, hardly soaking past his jacket. It seemed weird to him how little it bothered him going to Kenny’s with wet hair and clothes when the mere thought of talking to Kyle with a stain on his shirt had sent him into a frenzy a couple of weeks ago. It just- felt different, back then. It mattered so much. He’d probably say it was still a big deal, if Kyle and half his classmates hadn’t just disappeared into thin air a few days later.

Stan frowned as he walked. Seriously...he was such an idiot.

The train tracks finally appeared, and Stan hopped over them easily, somehow still remembering the same swift movements he’d used maybe four years ago. They’d always done that, jumping over as fast as they could, even though the tracks became twisted after twenty metres and he hadn’t ever seen a train using it his entire life.

Stan stepped around a puddle forming in one of the dents on the road, skirting around to the front of Kenny’s house. Honestly, it didn’t even look any different. Maybe before there were three cracks on the wall, now there were five. It was pretty hard to tell. There wasn’t any noise from inside though, so Stan knocked before he could second-guess himself. Six times for Kenny’s house, and at least two attempts. That was how it had always been.

Sure enough, the door swung open at the end of his second knock, and Stan breathed out of a sigh of relief to see Kenny standing there, eyebrows raised.

“Stan?” he asked, leaning to the side slightly. He didn’t look angry, thank god, but he did look a little confused. “What’re you doing here?”

“Uh...” Stan stopped, suddenly not knowing what to say. He probably should’ve thought about it slightly more on the walk here. “...I kind of...wanted to talk.”

“Sure,” Kenny said, stepping out and shutting the door behind without further question. “Let’s go to the tracks.”

“Even though it’s raining?”

Kenny glanced up as if he hadn’t even noticed, then shrugged. “Hardly.”

Stan followed Kenny wordlessly back to the edge of the tracks, sitting down beside him when Kenny squatted down on one of the metal beams. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, and Stan just stared at the dead leaves caught between the metal.

“...So?” Kenny asked, not turning to look at him, face hidden by his hood. He always seemed like he wasn’t quite there, though Stan had never thought of it as a bad thing. It was like being with half the presence of someone. Enough to feel comfortable, not enough to feel like he was talking to himself.

“I haven’t seen you in like, two weeks dude,” Stan started, unable to force himself to get straight to the point.

Kenny didn’t seem bothered by the small talk, at least. “I guess it must feel like that.”

“Uh, sorry about that.”

“No worries, dude,” Kenny said, then turned his head just a fraction. “What did you wanna talk about?”

“It’s just...” Stan breathed in. “Do you know anything about- like, the guys who went missing...?”

“You’re still worried about that, huh.”

“You’re not?” Stan had some vague recollection that Kenny hadn’t seemed worried the last time they’d spoke, even though he couldn’t recall speaking to him at all since the party. “Craig’s little sister said Karen was talking about it.”

“Yeah?”

“About Butters?” Stan tried. “His parents...”

“Yeah, I think they should get arrested,” Kenny said, tone as light as ever. “I think a few more days and the police will get on it. We’ve just gotta tell more people it was them.”

“Oh god,” Stan said, suddenly feeling sick. His voice came out small when he spoke again. “They really killed him?”

Kenny shot him a look, eyes sharp but not judgemental. “They might’ve well have done.”

“Uh...?”

“It’s the perfect chance,” Kenny continued. “I think if we keep pushing it, the police won’t have any choice.”

“Kenny, I-“ Stan shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he was too focused on the conversation to look now. “Do you know where Butters is?”

Kenny didn’t reply, and Stan suddenly felt nervous, like some ghost train was going to come and slam into the two of them, leaving no trace behind.

“Do you- know where Kyle is? And Craig?”

The silence stretched on a little longer, and Stan was just about to try again when Kenny let out a long sigh, as if exhaling from a cigarette.

“I think it’s fucked up they didn’t tell you, dude.”

“...Tell me?”

“I really thought he’d tell you at the party,” Kenny said, shaking his head. “There’s no way he would’ve not done if he could see how you’re acting now.”

“He _was_ going to tell me at the party, wasn’t he,” Stan muttered, before swallowing. “...What was he gonna tell me?”

“I tried to tell you before.” Kenny’s eyes watched him carefully. “And I was gonna go too, but- I’m stuck here.”

“Kenny-“ Stan bit his lip, stuck between frustration and wanting to cry. “Kenny, if you know- if anything happened to them- you’ve gotta _tell_ me, dude.”

“They’re not dead,” Kenny said. “They just-“

A loud creak sounded behind them, and Stan glanced around at the last second to see a tree tipping from its roots. They both jumped to their feet, but before Stan could even blink, the tree collapsed over Kenny, leaving nothing but a gloved hand poking out from under the bark.

For a moment, Stan stared, stock-still, before he clenched his fist, teeth grit. “Fucking _bastard!!_ ”

He pressed his eyes shut, biting back the wave of inexplicable frustration that had suddenly washed over him, grabbing the bridge of his nose to stop himself from screaming. God, why had he even decided to come here? This place always gave him the creeps, and it was raining. Wasn’t he supposed to be doing something important today? Stan sighed, turning away from the tracks and shoving his hand into his pocket. Belatedly he realised he still had messages unread, and he pulled out his phone, blinking at the brightness of the screen.

Four messages and two missed calls flashed up.

_Wendy: Stan, you need to answer.  
Wendy: OMG I can’t believe this is happening.  
Wendy: I know what happened. I can’t explain through text.  
Wendy: Stan?_

Hand shaking, Stan pressed the call button, holding his breath as it rang. It only took two rings before Wendy picked up.

“Stan!” she exclaimed. “Did you see the news? Where are you??”

“I- no, I just- what happened?”

“We were right,” Wendy said, and Stan felt his stomach drop, mind instantly turning to the worst of the theories they’d discussed. “It was on purpose.”

“What- was on purpose?”

“ _Everything_ , Stan,” Wendy said, a crackle of movement on the other end. “The window, the room, the hat, all the accusations and blame- totally planned out. Or I think most of it, anyway.”

“What?”

“Yesterday afternoon, around six,” Wendy carried on, voice hurried but somehow not panicked. “Tweek disappeared. Hasn’t been seen since.”

“ _What_?? Wendy- what-“

“He left a note,” Wendy cut him off as if he’d never been talking at all. “And he knew everything, all along. It was vague, but enough.”

“Enough-“

“They _left_ , Stan.” Wendy’s voice reverberated through the phone as if speaking to him from a thousand miles away. “They ran away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is shorter than i remembered ><  
> anyway!!! big development haha ;w; did you guess??


	18. 2nd may, monday

**may 2nd, monday**

Either the school hadn’t heard the latest news about Tweek going missing, or they’d just fully given up on caring about the wellbeing of their students. Stan’s pessimism wanted to say it was a little bit of both, but there was no clear answer as he dragged himself through the school gates along with a hoard of other five-minute-late students. No signs or posters. Nothing out of the ordinary.

The hallways felt cold, and Stan didn’t let his eyes linger on any of the lockers, skipping a trip to his own to go straight to his classroom. It wasn’t like he’d brought anything with him anyway.

Somehow, the teacher hadn’t yet arrived, so Stan was able to slink over to his desk without any scolding or slip-handing, resting his head against his hand. He’d been hoping that he could just sleep off this entire day, or at the very least spend it completely zoned out, but the squeaking of pen on the board at the front told him that wasn’t likely to happen.

“So, as you can _see_ -” Cartman’s voice seemed to cut through all other sounds of the classroom, and Stan forced his gaze up to watch Cartman tap a pen against the whiteboard, some kind of crude chart drawn out. “Four kids have gone missing from South Park.”

Annoyingly enough, it wasn’t just Stan who’d been sucked in to listening to whatever shit Cartman was spewing. A few of the girls had paused in their conversations, turning just a little to watch, voices lowering.

“And what do all these kids have in common, you may ask?” With another squeak of the pen, Cartman wrote out three letters on the board, then drew a thick circle around it. “Well, it’s quite simple. The answer is, of course- they are all faggy as hell.”

Stan narrowed his eyes, but couldn’t find it in him to muster the energy to react any more than that. Apparently Cartman had been watching for any response from him anyway, as he grinned, eyes straight on Stan.

“I have to stay, Stan, I’m surprised. I would’ve thought for sure you would’ve been first to go in this kind of situation.”

There were too many ways to retort to that statement; Stan just kept his mouth shut.

“He’s just jealous because he knows Craig’s out there getting his ass pounded by Kyle,” Cartman carried on, shaking his head. “Guess Tweek couldn’t handle missing out on the gay orgy and left to go join in.”

“God, you’re such an asshole,” Stan muttered, trying to ignore the squirming in his chest. It was only then did he realise he could hear muffled crying from behind him, and turned to see the remainders of Craig’s gang – Jimmy, Token, and Clyde – sat together at one desk. It wasn’t a surprise to him to see who the one in tears was.

They looked- so much worse than last time, though. Was this because it was still so soon? Or- the fact that basically everything was out in the open now. Though Stan suspected they’d known all along. So, why now-?

Just as the urge to go talk to them became overwhelming, with Stan about to push himself from his seat, the door to the classroom opened, and he slumped back down, sighing. It was at least a little entertaining to watch Cartman fumble with the board, rubbing it off with his sleeve and hurrying back to his seat, but it wasn’t enough to make the day any better.

Almost the second the bell rang, Stan’s phone buzzed. The message wasn’t much of a surprise, with Wendy asking to meet in the north wing of the school. He didn’t really want to, honestly. They hadn’t met yesterday, and he’d spent most of it ignoring her messages, locked away in the darkness of his room. Still, break only lasted fifteen minutes. He could handle that much.

Wendy looked as composed as ever as she waited outside the classroom, chatting easily to a few of the other girls, though Stan couldn’t help but notice the way they spoke over her. They hardly paid her any mind when she broke away from the conversation to come talk to him.

“Rough morning?” she asked, and Stan just shrugged. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“I don’t know how I feel,” he said honestly, then swallowed, scared he was suddenly going to keep crying if he kept up that level of vulnerability. “People are talking a lot.”

“Tell me about it,” Wendy said, rolling her eyes. “All I’ve been hearing all morning is how ‘Tweek couldn’t handle being without Craig and killed himself to join him in death’.”

“God, girls are dramatic.”

“Says you,” Wendy said with just a hint of teasing. Then her face morphed into something more sympathetic. “Have you spoken to any of the others yet?”

“Not really.”

“Maybe we could try at lunch?” Wendy asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, if you’re okay with that.”

“...I guess.” Stan sighed. “You said Tweek left a note?”

“Hidden in one of the coffee cups in his room. Token found it.”

“But they already knew?” Stan asked doubtfully, remembering the scene from the classroom.

“I’m not sure. But we can get it out of them at lunch.”

“Yeah.” Stan paused for a second, rocking on his feet slightly. “Hey, uh. Do you think we can look in Kyle’s locker too?”

“You think it’ll be helpful?”

“I just...like, if Tweek left a note...y’know. Maybe he did too.”

“Well, we could try,” Wendy said, then frowned. “But I don’t know if the teachers would just give us the combination-“

“I know it.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “You were being serious about that?”

“I mean, yeah- is that weird?”

“Not weird,” Wendy said lightly, and Stan could’ve sworn she was holding back a smirk. “Let’s do that at lunch too.”

“Okay,” Stan said, then looked up. “It’s gonna be over soon, right?”

“Seems that way. Hopefully we still get a story that resolves itself without any death.”

“But- nobody killed them.”

“Not _here_ ,” Wendy said, then paused, blinking as if she hadn’t meant to voice such dark thoughts. That just put Stan more on edge. “I’m sure it’s fine. Like you said, it’ll be over soon.”

Stan nodded, but the unease had already planted itself within his stomach. He let Wendy leave for her next class, not feeling like talking anymore. In a way, it was kind of good that he wasn’t that close with anyone in his class, since it meant he could just sit in silence for the next two hours.

If he was lucky, he could keep quiet during lunch too. Stan did want to find out what exactly was going on, but- he also really didn’t want to talk to anyone. Didn’t want to be there. Having to sit with a bunch of people who knew exactly what was going on whilst he’d been left in the dark by his own best friend. Ex-best friend. And it was his own fault anyway.

He just...didn’t want to think about it.

Stan got to his classroom with still five minutes of the break left, standing quietly outside with his hand in his pocket, and then dropped his head onto his desk as soon as the teacher let them inside. He didn’t sleep, though he didn’t move his head for the next two classes. Even when the bell rang, Stan kept in the same position until he felt his phone buzz, and knew he couldn’t fight the inevitable any longer.

They had to talk about it. They had to hear all the answers to a problem Stan wished just didn’t exist at all.

Biting back a groan, Stan pulled himself up, cracking his neck to the side to try and will out the stiffness. Sitting with one arm tucked against his chest and one on the desk hadn’t been the most comfortable position.

_Wendy: Remember where they used to hold the Kpop meetings before that club got banned?  
Stan: No  
Wendy: Well, it’s on the second floor. Last door on the left. We’re meeting there.  
Wendy: Do you want to go to Kyle’s locker first?  
Stan: Let’s go after_

The hallways were noisy and more than once Stan felt someone bump into him, knocking his arm enough to be an annoyance but not enough to cause any serious pain, and he pushed forwards against the stream of students to the cafeteria until he reached the stairs, leaving the crowds behind him. Being the only room on the floor with its lights on made it a lot easier to find, and Stan took a deep breath before he opened the door.

Finally, they were going to get some answers. So- shouldn’t he be happier?

To his mild surprise, the others were already there, gathered together on computer chairs near the corner of the room. Most noticeable was Clyde, once again with tears streaming down his face, half a sandwich stuffed in his mouth. Token, Jimmy, and Wendy seemed to be working on consoling him, and Stan raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, hi.”

“It’s m’ fauwalt,” Clyde managed through a mouthful of bread and tears. “’m shoun’t have...”

“It’s okay, Clyde,” Wendy said, patting his back, then glanced at Stan with a nod towards one of the chairs still at the desk. “You should come sit with us, Stan.”

Stan just nodded, grabbing a chair and pushing it close to Wendy, wanting to stay as far from Craig’s mess of a group as possible. If they could even be called Craig’s group anymore. For what felt like at least a full minute, there was silence in the room, other than Clyde’s noises.

“...I guess you must have a lot of questions,” Token said, then sighed. “Trust me, so do we.”

“So you don’t know where the others are?” Wendy asked, quirking an eyebrow. Stan frowned, ready to call bullshit, before Token spoke up again, lifting a hand in good measure.

“We know where they are,” he said. “We just...don’t know _where_ they are.”

“’N now Twuuek is gone tooooo,” Clyde wailed, and this time Jimmy gave him a pat on the back, though Stan was starting to wonder if it was more to prevent him from choking.

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning,” Wendy said, phone already in hand. “First things first. Everything’s connected, right?”

“Yeah,” Token admitted, shoulders slumping. “They planned it out.”

“And Craig told you?”

“He t-told us at the party,” Jimmy spoke up. “Only the th-three of us.”

“He didn’t tell Tweek?”

“He told Tweek,” Token clarified. “Before the party started, and before he told us. I guess it must’ve been whilst we were setting up.”

Stan tried not to let his mind linger on that for too long. Tried not to imagine switching Craig and Tweek with him and Kyle.

“What exactly did he say to you?”

“He told us he was leaving, and didn’t know when he’d be back,” Token started. “He-“

“He said he didn’t know _if_ he’d be back!” Clyde burst out, apparently finally done with his mouthful. “And not to try and stop him ‘cause he’d already made up his mind and hates us all and hates everybody!!”

“He didn’t say that,” Token said, frowning. “I mean, he _did_ say not to stop him. He also told us not to tell anybody else.”

“Did he say why he wanted to leave? Or for any of them?” Wendy kept asking, and Stan was amazed that she hadn’t managed to get the full truth the first time they’d spoken with so much authority radiating off her. She wasn’t inviting an answer, she was demanding it.

“I mean, he didn’t say exactly, but-“

“It’s the gay secret love affair.” Clyde sniffed, shaking his head. Wendy blinked.

“The what?”

“It was some rumour his sister was talking about,” Stan added in a low voice, unnerved when everyone turned to look at him instead. “I don’t know if it’s true.”

“I heard the rumour,” Wendy said, sitting up slightly. “I had _no_ idea it was true. Wow. That’s incredible.”

“I wasn’t sure at first, but...I could tell there was something- different?” Token shrugged. “But Craig never let anyone ask about it.”

“It was so _obvious_ ,” Clyde said, blinking hard. “You know, they even shared a house on Minecraft. Craig even let Tweek have his diamonds.”

“Holy shit,” Stan said, eyes widening.

“What are you talking about right now?” Wendy asked, throwing them both a disbelieving look, before seeming to snap back to the current situation. “So Tweek was part of it too? And he left to go be with Craig. Aw, that’s so romantic...”

“Wendy,” Stan warned, not liking the tone in her voice.

“It would be romantic!” Clyde exclaimed, near jumping off his chair and dropping a piece of lettuce on the floor as a result. “But Tweek never said he was gonna go!”

“Yeah, Tweek leaving wasn’t part of the p-puh-plan,” Jimmy added, pulling a face.

“The police were on my ass again,” Clyde said, pouting. “But the note even said it wasn’t my fault! Seriously dude, what the fuck.”

“Can I see that note?” Wendy asked. “I was actually interested in seeing, considering none of the others left one.”

“Sure.” Token took out his phone, and Stan had to fight to keep a straight face at the sight of the model that probably cost more than everything he owned. “I took a picture.”

He held up his phone, and Stan leaned in along with Wendy to see the scribble against a hastily torn looking scrap of paper. It was hard to read, but he could just about make out the scrawls.

‘ _I’m really sorry, Clyde. I know they’ll blame this on you. Please just wait a little longer! I’ll fix this.’_

“You’re sure it was Tweek?” Wendy asked, leaning back. “It doesn’t have a signature.”

“Tweek’s handwriting is p-pretty unique,” Jimmy pointed out, and Stan nodded in agreement. Somehow seeing the note made him feel worse, something panging in his chest. Distantly, he thought of Kyle’s unopened locker. Maybe they should’ve checked that first.

“I think Craig told Tweek where they were going,” Clyde said miserably. “But dude...that’s so dangerous. It was dangerous to start with, but it was better ‘cause there was three of them.”

“Right, the other two,” Wendy said, and Stan’s heart picked up again. “Kyle and Butters. You know about them too?”

“You went to his house,” Stan said, gaze locked on Clyde. It sounded more accusing than he’d intended, but- whatever.

“You know about that?” Clyde asked nervously, and Token and Jimmy glanced at him.

“Went to whose house?”

“Kyle’s,” Clyde admitted, head low. “Look, I got a little drunk again, and- I dunno. I thought if I could stop Kyle, then Craig wouldn’t wanna go anymore, and they’d call it all off.”

“Dude, no wonder the police have been after you,” Token said, shaking his head in exasperation.

“He’d already gone by then,” Clyde muttered. “I think he must’ve gone around three.”

_Three in the morning_ , Stan thought hazily, mind flashing back to that night. Maybe- if he hadn’t been passed out, or had come back a little later- fuck, he could’ve run into Kyle. They might’ve met in the darkness and Stan could’ve stopped him, they could’ve talked about it and everything would be okay and fine-

Or he’d probably just have cried and yelled drunkenly and given Kyle another reason to leave. That was probably a lot more likely.

“Do you know why the other two left?” Wendy pressed on, seemingly unfazed by none of the information that was making Stan’s head spin. “Craig might’ve left because of- _rumours_ , but what about the other two?”

“We didn’t really speak to them,” Token said, frowning. “And I don’t think Craig really cared. Uh, sorry. I don’t mean that in a bad way...”

“It’s okay,” Wendy said, then glanced down at her phone, scrolling up and down whilst pursing her lips. “So...we know they left, we don’t know why all of them left. We know Tweek’s gone to- join, or something. But we don’t know where.”

“I guess that’s pretty much it,” Token said.

“Sorry we didn’t tell you, Stan,” Jimmy added, shooting Stan a sympathetic look. “We thought Kyle was g-gonna tell you at the pa-pahh-party.”

“Dude, that fucking party feels like it caused half the problems in my life right now,” Stan groaned, staring back down at his arm.

“So do you think we should just...wait?” Wendy asked, looking uncertain at the suggestion. “See if Tweek brings them back?”

“But it’s _Tweek_ ,” Clyde stressed, face contorting in obvious worry. “Even if he knows where they are, you really think he’s gonna get there okay?? He freaks out about everything, like saying that certain shampoos can make you blind or that it isn’t okay to eat meat pizza that’s been left out all night!”

Token threw him a look. “Dude, what? You ate that?”

“It was totally fine,” Clyde retorted, then turned his attention back to Wendy. “But seriously, he might actually die.”

“But if we don’t know where they are, then...” Wendy pulled a face, as if it pained her just to say it. “We’re kind of at a dead end.”

“Doesn’t anyone else know?” Stan asked, glancing between the three of them. “Does Craig’s sister know? Or- wait, doesn’t Ike know?”

“Who’s Ike?” Clyde asked, frowning. “Anyway, I doubt anyone knows exactly where they went. I’m pretty sure he only told Tweek ‘cause he wanted him to go with him. Like, he didn’t even tell _me_.”

Stan wondered if Kyle would’ve told him where he was going. He wondered if Kyle had wanted them to go together too, then pressed the thought away. No way. Kyle probably just wanted to tell him because he felt sorry for him or something. Like he would freak out if he didn’t.

_Well, great job, Kyle. I freaked out anyway,_ Stan thought wryly, letting out a hard sigh.

“Nothing else to say?” Wendy asked, lowering her phone at last. “As in, nothing to say for real, and not just nothing that you don’t want to keep hiding.”

“No, that’s really everything,” Token said. “We’re all worried about Tweek. And the others too, really. I thought Craig would be gone for a week, tops. I should’ve offered him some money if I knew it was gonna be this long...”

“You gotta find him,” Clyde said, starting to look teary again. “I can’t lose two of my best friends in less than a month. Especially not if they were gonna get married.”

“Married?” Wendy enquired, leaning closer with a glint in her eye, and Stan pressed a hand between his eyes.

“Okay, Wendy, maybe we should go now,” he said, already standing up and kicking his chair back over to the desk.

“Let us know if you find anything else, okay?” Token said. “We’ll tell you if we get hold of either of them.”

“Of course,” Wendy said, thankfully back to professional mode. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“Please don’t let me get arrested again...” Clyde said miserably, and Stan nodded as he left the room, knowing for sure he was going to need to look over Wendy’s notes to piece together everything that had just been said. Part of him was annoyed that it had been so Craig-centric when Kyle was his main concern.

“That was pretty informative,” Wendy said cooly, almost as if she could sense his restlessness.

“I don’t get why the window was smashed,” Stan blurted out, knowing it was a non-sequitur and not caring. “If they ran away and planned it out- why smash the window? Why ruin the room?”

“A diversion, maybe?”

“Why _blood_?” Stan asked, feeling queasy just at the mention of it. “Dude, I don’t get it.”

“We have almost everything now, Stan. It’ll all make sense soon.”

“I just-“ Stan pressed his eyes shut, leaning against the wall. “Want it to be over.”

“It will be,” Wendy said. “Soon. Come on, let’s go look at this locker.”

Stan trailed back down the stairs with Wendy behind him, glad at least to see the hallways had cleared a little. It felt almost pointless to check now, but Stan still wanted to look. Just in case. Though Wendy probably thought it was useless too, and was doing it just to appease him. Well, whatever.

He wondered if maybe part of it had been that he just wanted to show off that he knew Kyle’s locker combination, like it was the most personal thing someone could know about the other. Seeing Wendy look just a little impressed when it clicked open was- kind of worth it, he guessed. Better than nothing.

“Pretty neat,” Wendy observed as the door swung open, and Stan felt a weird emotion hit him at seeing all of Kyle’s books stacked up in a tidy pile, sticky notes and memos stuck against the door. Not even peeling.

With a shaky hand, Stan reached out to grab a book from the top of the pile, flicking it open. Full of Kyle’s handwriting, and even at the back still, the crude doodles Stan had snuck in during class, matching ones in the back of his own book. Oh god, this was probably the saddest he’d ever been holding a math book, and Stan really hated math.

“Find anything?” Wendy asked, extracting the next book and holding it by the spine, dangling it between her thumb and finger. Nothing fell out, and she placed it back before trying the next book.

“Not in here,” Stan sighed out, then placed the book back in, before noticing something at the back of the locker. His heart picked up a little at the sight of a scrunched-up piece of paper, then fell when he realised it was surrounded by a bunch of others. Too big to be a secret note, but Stan picked it out anyway, flattening it back out. Just some English essay from two months back.

The grade was...pretty bad. Stan frowned.

“What’s that?” Wendy peered over at the sheet. “Oh, I had to do this one too.”

“Was it hard?” Stan glanced down the paper, seeing a mess of scribbles and handwriting that seemed far messier than Kyle usually wrote.

“Um, not too bad.” Wendy’s eyes caught at the top of the paper. “Seems like he struggled with it.”

“Yeah,” Stan said, folding it back up and sliding it back behind the books, before taking out another crumpled paper. This one was Biology, and had a C minus at the top. That was a grade Stan would’ve been so-so with. But Kyle...

“Are these all bad tests?” Wendy asked, pulling out the remainder of the sheets. “I recognise some of these. They’re all pretty recent.”

Stan remembered once when they were fifteen, and Kyle got a B on a project he’d spent weeks on. For about two weeks after, he’d complained about it, going on about how it was worth so much more and the teachers didn’t even care about his effort and that it should have at _least_ been a B _plus_ , for god’s sake.

Stan wondered how he’d reacted to these.

“These must be the ones that weren’t in his folder,” Wendy said, flicking from sheet to sheet. Stan felt equally sick and saddened as he saw the flashes of the grades at the top. If they’d been his own, he doubted he would’ve cared, but...something about seeing an _F_ on something Kyle had written- it made him almost burst into tears.

“Dude, what happened...?” he asked quietly, blinking hard as Wendy finished shuffling through the stack.

“Maybe he was distracted...?” Wendy frowned quizzically at the papers. “They’re not failed on purpose, I can tell that much.”

“...I wanna talk to him,” Stan muttered, wincing just a little as his voice broke. “I really wanna- talk to him.”

“Don’t worry, Stan,” Wendy said, placing everything back inside to the back where they’d been originally, just no longer scrunched up. Stan suddenly felt guilty for even requesting to search through it, like he’d invaded on Kyle’s privacy. Seen stuff he wasn’t meant to. “It’ll be over soon.”

Stan closed the locker.

-

By the time the last bell of the day rang, Stan had already decided he wasn’t going straight home. Even in his own head, he couldn’t really think about the reason, it was just- he didn’t want to. So instead of catching the bus like any other day, Stan walked past the crowds and through the gates, heading down the road.

It probably would’ve been a good time to think, but Stan didn’t really feel like doing that either. Maybe that was why he didn’t want to go home; once he was alone in his room with nothing else to do, his thoughts would land in only one place, and he didn’t want them there. But the rhythm of his walk made it surprisingly easy to attach onto nothing, and he let himself focus on nothing but the stray lyric floating around his head as he passed the streets and buildings.

He didn’t let his legs rest until the outline of his shadow had almost disappeared against the ground, the glint of the sun dull against the water. Stan stared out for a moment, breeze on his cheeks, before he let out a heavy sigh and slumped to the ground, laying his legs out in front of him.

It wasn’t like Stark’s Pond was a particularly sad place. He had a ton of good and stupid and boring memories linked around one of the calmest places in South Park, but- it always seemed to be a place he went when he was sad. It had always been like that. And now, it was starting to be a weird kind of nostalgic too, though Stan wasn’t really sure he liked nostalgia.

Once they’d been playing some kind of fishing game here, and Kenny had fallen in, though Stan didn’t remember how they’d got him out. Or another time, a little later, Kyle and Cartman had gotten into an overly competitive contest skipping stones, until Stan had beat them both. They’d both given him a stink eye for the rest of the night.

When Stan was fourteen, he’d come down here in a way that was kind of similar to now. Kind of- escaping.

He didn’t think he’d been that obvious, but it had taken less than an hour of being MIA for Kyle to seek him out, resting his bike against a tree that had since been cut down. Stan remembered that he’d known Kyle was there, and didn’t turn around to look at him as he sat down next to him, though he wasn’t mad. Not mad at Kyle, at least.

_“…This gets pretty boring after a while,”_ Kyle had said after maybe a good ten minutes of them both sat there, staring at the water. Stan had sighed, shifting his stiff shoulders.

_“Yeah.”_

_“Why weren’t you at school today, dude? You missed the experiment.”_

_“Didn’t feel like it.”_

_“Didn’t feel like watching a dead frog get blown apart?”_

_“Shut up, it didn’t fucking explode.”_

_“It totally did, dude. I think Cartman recorded it, so you can probably watch…”_ Kyle shook his head, frowning. _“Have you been here all day?”_

_“Not_ all _day.”_

_“Dude.”_ Kyle gave him a look, and Stan knew his time of being cryptic was over. _“What’s wrong?”_

_“I just…”_ Stan remembered how hard it had been to find the words, like a block in his head, nothing coherent there. It made his eyes sting, so he pressed them shut before he could speak again with a clear voice. _“I wanna run away.”_

_“…I guess your parents were fighting again.”_

_“No, I mean- yeah, they were, but- that’s not the whole reason,”_ Stan had said, turning to his friend in hopes it would make him understand better. _“This place sucks. Me being here-_ I _suck. It’s like- if I was somewhere else, I wouldn’t be so…”_

Stan had rubbed at his eyes, and hadn’t really been expecting Kyle to get it. It was probably just overdramatic, and made no sense, just that dumb teenage angst he was always hearing about-

_“Yeah, I know what you mean, dude,”_ Kyle had said, and then sighed too. _“This place is total ass.”_

_“I really wanna just- go,”_ Stan said, staring hard at the water. _“Or stay by the pond forever, I dunno. I just don’t wanna keep dealing with it all.”_

_“Right? I feel like that all the time.”_

_“Really?”_ Stan frowned at him. _“But you’re like- good at stuff. You’re smart.”_

_“You’re head of the football team,”_ Kyle shot back, then settled into some kind of sad, unsatisfied smile. _“But yeah, I guess I wanna too.”_

_“Run away?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“…Let’s go together,”_ Stan said, turning to look at Kyle again. Their eyes met, and Stan was still for just a moment, waiting. Feeling almost nervous for some reason. Then Kyle had broken into a grin, and the nerves vanished all at once.

_“We should totally run away together,”_ he’d said, then laughed, which made Stan grin too. _“We could like, stockpile our money, get a bus really far away…or I dunno, a train might be faster…”_

_“You can do all the thinking, and I’ll- be moral support,”_ Stan had said, growing lighter at the thought, even if it was just a dumb fantasy they both knew they could never take up on. _“We could go to like, California, or something. Like they do in movies.”_

_“Ugh, definitely not California,”_ Kyle screwed up his face. _“Too far. Too hot.”_

_“Where would you go, then?”_ Stan asked, shivering in the cold, mind half caught between dream and reality.

_“You remember that one place I told you about?”_ Kyle asked, turning to look up at the near dark sky. _“Back when I was a kid?”_

_“I-“_

Stan opened his eyes, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. Before the memory had even fully faded, he was reaching for his phone, pausing for just a moment as everything caught up with him. He felt like he was going to be sick, and he felt like he was going to cry.

He pressed Wendy’s number.

“Stan-?”

“I know where they are,” he said, aware of how his voice was shaking. “I know where Kyle is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm very excited because i finally finished the writing process this fic!!! ;w; ;w; ;w;  
> now all i have to do is edit ^^ i hope you'll all enjoy the rest of what's to come!!


	19. 3rd may, tuesday (first half)

**may 3rd, tuesday (first half)**

Stan woke up at six in the morning, and didn’t go back to sleep.

The dim light shining in through his curtains made the room a hazy shade of blue, and he pulled himself up in the darkness, taking a moment just to look around. From the jacket tossed over the back of his chair, to the array of cans scattered across his desk. He was starting to realise how little things had changed in the past few years. Or- how much he’d been resisting it.

But things weren’t really that much like they used to be.

With a hard blink, Stan slid off his bed, stretching out as best he could. Despite feeling like he’d barely slept at all, he didn’t feel all that tired. With a wary glance at his desk, he wondered absently if it was something to do with how little he’d been drinking lately. It hadn’t even been a planned thing, he’d just- not thought about it as much. Which seemed weird, since everything was so messed up right now. But he just- didn’t feel like he needed to anymore, somehow.

Stan sat back down on the edge of his bed, holding his phone but not turning it on. He stared at his reflection in the dark screen, and frowned. Today was- going to be long.

It was still a little early, but Stan decided to go ahead and get ready, aware that it was only growing lighter outside. There was an actual schedule to stick to today, and Stan really couldn’t risk screwing it up. By the time he’d gotten out of the shower, a notification was already flashing on his phone.

_Wendy: Ready to go soon?  
Stan: Yeah  
Stan: I guess  
Wendy: See you later._

The screen quickly grew dark again in his hand, and he breathed in slowly. Maybe it was the early hour, but nothing right now felt real. He didn’t feel like himself. Or- kind of the opposite. Or something?? He wasn’t sure.

The bag he’d packed the night before was waiting at the door, though he wasn’t even sure he’d need it. Some cash and a phone seemed enough for him, but Wendy had chastised him for even suggesting taking so little. So he’d packed up a bunch of stuff, but Stan still couldn’t really feel like he had everything he needed.

He clicked his screen back on, and scrolled over to Kyle’s name.

For a few seconds, he sat with his hand still, staring down at the last text messages they’d sent each other. Cutting words and phrases that Stan had repeated to himself almost daily in the past six months. Stuff he regretted saying. Stuff he regretted not saying. Failure to reach any kind of a resolution. No closure, and a constant feeling of hanging.

But that was before, and this was now. And- even if just this morning, things were different. So Stan started typing.

_‘Hey dude. I hope you’re okay. I know it’s been a while since we last properly spoke, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for messing things up at the party, and for everything I did before then too. You being gone has made me kind of sad, but I’m working through it. I havent given up. Its kinda given me something to work through, if that makes sense. I guess you probably don’t want other people to know where you are, but I remembered how we talked about it once, so. Me and Wendy – well, mostly me, I guess – have been worried about you, and just wanna make sure youre still okay. I want to make it right again, but I’m not sure how. Im not trying to make things go wrong. Sometimes they just do. I really miss you, and I really want to speak to you. I hope I can see you again soon.’_

The weird names saved onto his phone still stared back at him, and he hoped it maybe eased the seriousness just a little. Nothing like all his texts with Wendy where there were no nicknames or jokes. Stan pressed send, and clicked off his phone with a weird mix of relief and nervousness.

Time to go.

-

Not for the first time, Stan was kind of glad that Wendy was such a tryhard at school. The apparent fact that the school opened its gates at seven in the morning despite not starting until nine was one that was very much unknown to him, and probably would’ve always been if Wendy hadn’t told him the evening before. And even though she’d told him, he still couldn’t help feel a little surprised to see the gates ready and open when he arrived at the school, as if it wasn’t insane to get to school at this time.

Smart kids were really a whole other species.

Even if walking through the empty corridors was weird, it was also kind of relaxing. If it could be like this all the time, Stan was sure he wouldn’t hate drudging along between classes so much. Most of the rooms still had their lights off, and Stan wondered if there were even any teachers here right now. Maybe it was just them. Well, and those cleaner guys that seemed to live in the utility cupboard. But he wasn’t really counting them.

It was dumb, but Stan had chosen his and Kyle’s old homeroom as a meetup point, and he couldn’t even deny that it was based on pure sentimentality. Well, whatever. He was allowed at this point.

Just as he was about to test his luck to see if the door would open, he heard footsteps behind him, jumping at the sudden sound. The panic flashing in his chest faded when he turned and realised it was just Wendy walking towards him, bag tossed over her shoulder. When Stan pressed on the door, it swung open, and they walked through together.

Wendy clicked the switch and fluorescent light flooded the room, though the classroom still didn’t feel the same as it had before. Stan leaned against one of the desks, pressing his lips together.

“…How are you feeling?” Wendy asked after a few seconds, and Stan just nodded slowly in response. “Tired?”

“No,” Stan said, then glanced at her. “Is that weird?”

“No, it’s not weird. It’s good.” She smiled as she pulled herself up to sit on the table across from him, placing her hands in her lap. “I think…you’ve been doing better recently.”

“…You think?”

“Yeah. You seem brighter, somehow. It’s nice to see.”

“Doesn’t that seem kind of fucked up?” Stan couldn’t help but ask. “Like, everything’s a total mess right now. Shouldn’t I like…not be?”

“Everyone needs a motive,” Wendy said simply. “And maybe you can sense things starting to get better.”

Stan didn’t reply, glancing around the room. His eyes caught on a bunch of assignments hung up by the window, the shine of the early sun making the paper translucent white. Two years ago, it might’ve been his own work hanging up there. Kyle’s beside it, with a much higher grade. The same old same old.

“…Do you ever…miss being a kid?” he asked slowly, staring at the display even as the glare hurt his eyes. “I feel like everything was easier back then. Like, you fight, and it’s over the next day. Bad grades don’t mean anything. When it’s Tuesday, you’re thinking about Tuesday, not the next thirty years of your existence.”

Wendy hummed, leaning her head back. “I get what you mean, but…I’m not sure I miss it. I kind of like growing older. I like getting more independent, and being able to act how I want. Focus on the things that are important to _me_ , you know?”

“Yeah,” Stan said. “I dunno. Yeah. I don’t- miss it. I don’t wanna go back to being a kid. I just…want things to be easy again.”

“Some things get easier, some harder.”

“You sound like my mom,” Stan snorted, and Wendy just shook her head at him with a smile. It was even more mom-like, and he grinned, before pressing his mouth shut. “…I’m glad that we’re speaking again, though.”

“Me too.” Wendy gave him a gentle look, smile soft. “I missed you, in a way. I do care about you, Stan.”

“Yeah. I do too, I…” The words fizzed away on his tongue like sugar paper, and he just nodded, hoping that it conveyed at least some of what he wanted to say. The sky outside was growing brighter, and he wondered how long it would be before other students started arriving. They’d agreed to meet early to talk things over, but he got the feeling they both already knew what they were doing. There was kind of…nothing left to say.

The next seven hours were going to feel like eternity.

-

By the last class of the day, Stan was sure he was going to throw up.

Not a single word spoken had reached his ears in the past two hours, and he felt like even staring at his desk was too much for his brain to handle. Despite the day having dragged for the past six and a half hours, suddenly it felt like everything was moving too fast. Like a speeding car lurching into action. God, he was going to puke.

The buzz in his pocket was a welcome distraction that really couldn’t have come sooner, and Stan grabbed his phone so quickly that he had to pause and make sure the teacher hadn’t spotted him. If she asked, he could probably just play it off as a ‘broken arm muscle spasm’ or something. They hadn’t really bothered to ask about the injury, so.

_Wendy: Can you ask Clyde and the others to get detention? Sorry, I forgot to ask earlier.  
Stan: What?  
Wendy: Just anything will do. Make sure they get held back for a bit after class, okay?_

Stan frowned down at his phone for a moment longer, before sighing as he slipped it back into his pocket. Well, if it was serious enough to make Wendy text during class, he had to follow through.

His years of football training suddenly seemed as though they weren’t so useless after all as Stan tossed a screwed-up piece of paper to Clyde’s desk, landing neatly but quietly near one of his arms. Old school, but he hadn’t had Clyde’s number since middle school. Before even checking to see where it had come from, Clyde picked up the note, read it, then finally looked around. When his eyes met with Stan, he pulled a puzzled face, but Stan just nodded.

Apparently that was all it took. Clyde fiddled with his phone for a few moments, then abruptly jumped to his feet, rocking his desk in the process.

“I-!” Clyde called out loudly, the class stopping to turn to him. “Think this class is fucking boring! And school sucks. Uh- and fuck you!”

A beat passed, and Stan stared. The teacher seemed frozen in place.

“ _Excuse_ me-?”

“M-me too,” Jimmy said, hoisting himself up too. “It’s a boring class, and this subject sucks b-bah-balls.”

“Uh, yeah, I- think so too,” Token offered, pulling himself to a stand as if being reluctantly dragged up to perform a presentation. “It’s lame, and, uh. Fuck you too, I guess.”

Stan watched along with the class in total silence as their teacher seemed to struggle to find the words to say, face switching between at least eight different expressions in less than a second. Honestly, Stan had to admire their dedication.

“I’ll…speak to all three of you after class,” she said eventually, mouth still stuck open. “This is- absolutely not appropriate.”

Clyde sat back down an accomplished grin, no subtlety as he turned back to give Stan a thumbs up. Stan just raised an eyebrow at him, wondering how he’d forgotten just how eccentric his classmates could be. Not to say it hadn’t worked, but- probably not the method Stan would’ve chosen. Well, not alone. If Kenny and Kyle were there, then maybe…

Stan reached for his phone, typing out a reply.

_Stan: They did it_   
_Stan: See you soon_   
_Wendy: :)_

In some weird way, seeing that display had soothed his nerves slightly, and the last twenty minutes of class weren’t that unbearable – or at least, they weren’t after the whispering and laughing about Clyde’s group had died down. By the end of today, there were probably going to be at least six new rumours about how they’d all started to go crazy with all the disappearances or were plotting something or whatever else.

Honestly, Stan might’ve believed some of them, a few days ago. And everything people were saying about Clyde- maybe they were saying the same thing about him, too. Stan felt a pang of guilt at that. They’d both done stupid things to make people suspicious of them, he supposed.

The bell rang, and Stan looked up. Time to do one last stupid thing.

He could feel Token side eyeing him as he left the room, the three of them dutifully staying behind as asked, but Stan kept his head down to avoid their stares. It wasn’t like anyone was watching them, but- just in case. If he could avoid acting conspicuous, that was best.

Trying not to stand out also meant that he couldn’t walk with Wendy, having to meet her there. It wasn’t the longest walk ever to the edge of town, but Stan still kind of wished he had some company as he walked along the streets, watching the buildings grow sparser and sparser. It was another place he hadn’t had reason to go in a long time, and if it wasn’t for Wendy, he’d have been sure that the bus stop was out of use, lost long ago to time and a bad economy.

Considering he’d bailed straight out of school at the ring of the bell without any hesitation, Stan unsurprisingly reached the stop before Wendy. It definitely _looked_ out of use, with the advertisement posters peeling away and four unintelligible names scrawled on and a dick covering the timetable. He tossed his bag over to one of the seats, then slumped down beside it.

The lack of excitement was probably the worst part. This was the kind of thing he’d thought about doing for years and years and years, but now that it was finally here- it didn’t feel like he’d thought it would. Though, he supposed in his mind the good fantasies were the one where he and Kyle met in the middle of the night and never had any plans to come back.

Stan wondered if Kyle had thought about him when he left.

“Hey.” Wendy’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see her standing by the gap in the shelter. “Are you all ready?”

“I guess,” he replied, shrugging one shoulder. “What was with asking those guys to get detention?”

“Well, it might not work,” she said, smiling just a little as she unzipped her bag, pulling something out of one of the pockets. It looked like a black brick. “I just wanted to see if I could create an alibi of some sort.”

“We don’t need an alibi, do we?” Stan frowned, realising now that Wendy was holding not a brick, but a very chunky phone. “Dude, that looks like it’s from the nineties.”

“Bebe let me borrow it,” Wendy said. “It’s a burner phone.”

“Why the hell does _Bebe_ have a burner phone?”

“She read in some girl magazine it was good to have one.” Wendy shrugged, and Stan heard a few hard beeps as she pressed some numbers into the pad. “I don’t think she’s ever used it.”

“Uh, good, I guess?”

“I’ll just be a sec,” Wendy said, tucking her hair behind her ear as she lifted the phone up. Whoever she was calling apparently didn’t take too long to pick up. When she spoke, she pitched up her voice slightly. “Hi, is this South Park police department? …Okay, good. Just so you know, I put a bomb in the high school, and it’s gonna explode soon. Okay, thanks!”

Wendy clicked the phone off, smiling.

“Wendy-!” Stan exclaimed, watching in horror as she slid the phone back into her bag.

“It’s okay, the old models don’t have location tracking.”

“Dude, what the hell? A _bomb_?”

“It’s kind of a long shot, but hear me out. Those guys are stuck at school, with a bunch of teachers as witnesses. The police have to come and lock it down for at least a couple hours, and see them there. And they know it can’t have been one of them that called, because none of them are girls.”

“…Dude, that’s…”

“It would be unfair if Clyde ended up getting arrested again,” Wendy said, shrugging. Stan frowned.

“You bitched at me for lying to the police.”

“The context was different.” She took a step over to him, sitting on the seat that wasn’t covered by his bag. “You made sure your phone is turned off, right?”

“Uh, I was just about to…” Stan slid a hand into his pocket, avoiding her gaze. “It’s not like I have location turned on anyway.”

“Better safe than sorry. There are still ways to track it.”

“God, I feel I’m guilty of a crime that hasn’t even happened,” Stan muttered as he fiddled with his phone, checking his messages for a final time.

“Did you leave a note for your parents?” Wendy asked, and he glanced at her.

“Why would I do that?”

“Won’t they be worried?”

“I mean…” Stan wanted to say no, of course they wouldn’t, since they hardly cared about him at all, but- the image of his mom’s disapproving and worried face when he’d arrived home after dark yesterday night…the guilt washed through him, and he sighed. “I’ll send a text. If I can, I mean.”

“It should be fine if we’re just here,” Wendy said. “We just don’t want to be followed.”

“Yeah.”

It was harder to figure out what to say than he’d been expecting, and Stan fumbled with his phone before writing out a short message just as the bus pulled up. Wendy pulled her hood up, and Stan took off his hat, pulling the cash out his pocket. They chose seats on different rows but the same side, and Stan remembered to hit send just as the engine kicked into life.

_Stan: Mom, I’m not coming back tonight. Sorry. I’m safe. Don’t worry. Be back soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of the days will be split up now, to stop them from getting too long ^^


	20. 3rd may, tuesday (second half)

**may 3rd, tuesday (second half)**

By the third bus, the gentle hum of the engine almost had Stan falling asleep.

Even taking the most direct route that they could find, it was a long journey, and without his phone, all Stan could really do was stare out the window. At one point he’d rested his head against it in a half-attempt to nap, but the rattling had been irritating, and he’d chose just to watch the scenery instead.

Maybe it was something he’d gotten too used to and stopped noticing, but the area around South Park was actually kind of pretty. All the trees and mountains against the backdrop of a setting sun had the type of saccharine normally reserved for a Bob Ross painting, and Stan stared off into it, eyes unfocused. It was always crazy thinking that a dump like South Park was surrounded by stuff like this.

Eventually, however, the landscape began to turn into something more industrialised, the fir trees placed sporadically between grey buildings. Ten minutes later, the bus finally grinded to a halt. Stan’s neck was stiff as he sat up, rolling his shoulders back. Wendy caught his eye with the slight turn of her head, and he knew they’d reached the last stop.

It was dark outside, though luckily their departure point was a well-lit bus station, even if it was a little cold. Stan let out a breath as he fell onto one of the plastic seats near an unused stop, the sleepiness from the journey still stuck to him.

“The trains’ll be stopped by the time we arrive, so we’ll get the next bus tomorrow morning,” Wendy said, sitting down next to him and pulling out a folded piece of paper from her coat pocket. Stan leaned over slightly, though he already knew what it said. “Then I guess it’s just a matter of finding the right place.”

“If all three of them are there, it can’t be that hard,” Stan said, moving his head back to gaze at a vending machine across from them, half-empty with its lights off. “…You think all three of them will be there?”

“Did Kyle get along with Craig or Butters?”

“Not…really. I dunno.”

Wendy shrugged, folding the paper back up. “Then we’ll find out later. You ready to go find a motel?”

“Sure,” Stan said, though he made no attempt to move. It was easier just to stay sat there, watching the reflections of people in the plastic of the shelter. Walking past, sitting and scrolling through their phones, hunched up and shaking and twitching-

Wait.

Stan turned around in his seat, mouth falling open as he realised it wasn’t just a trick of the light, and that Tweek was legitimately sat behind them, curled up on one of the seats with his eyes darting from side to side.

“Dude, holy shit,” Stan said, and Wendy turned too, noticing him instantly.

“Oh, wow.”

“We should probably, uh…” Stan trailed off as Wendy nodded, and they stood up together, heading towards Tweek. For all he was glancing around, it took him a moment to see them, letting out a yelp when he finally did.

“Gah, what’re you guys doing here?” he asked, gaze flickering between the two of them so fast it made his pupils look like they were vibrating. “Oh god, you are _real_ , aren’t you? I didn’t go insane-?”

“No, we’re real,” Wendy said, though Tweek’s suspicion didn’t seem to ease much. “What are you doing here? It’s been two days since you left. How come you’re not there yet?”

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Stan added, and Tweek frowned up at him, eyebrows twitching.

“I know where I’m going,” he huffed. “I only got lost once. I’ve just been stuck here waiting for the bus all day, ngh.”

Stan glanced around. The schedule seemed to be running as normal, and there was no sign of the buses having stopped.

“They haven’t shown up?”

“No,” Tweek said, shaking his head. “They show up, they’re just full.”

“Full?”

“With shadow people,” Tweek explained, staring at them fully serious. There was a pause as Stan and Wendy glanced at one another.

“Dude, when was the last time you slept?”

“What?” Tweek’s eye blinked shut as he stared at them. “Why would I have slept, ack??”

“…Maybe you should come with us tonight,” Wendy said after a moment. “Since we’re all heading the same way.”

“Ngh, I dunno. I’d rather just get there.”

“Dude, seriously,” Stan said, raising an eyebrow. “It won’t cost us any more, since it’s just the one room.”

“I’ve gone longer than this without sleep,” Tweek challenged.

“Honestly, that just concerns me more,” Wendy said, shaking her head. “Tweek, it’s safer to travel in groups. All the studies show that. Come with us.”

“…I didn’t know you guys were coming out here anyway,” Tweek muttered, but thankfully uncurled himself and stood up whilst his head jerked to the side. As familiar as his tics were, Stan hadn’t seen him quite this twitchy in a long time.

“It…happened pretty quick,” Wendy said. “We only left today.”

“Gh, straight after school?”

“Pretty much,” she said, then added quickly, “But I tried to make it so none of the others would get in trouble.”

“Me too,” Tweek muttered, scowling. “And- ack!- they still took Clyde in again.”

Wendy blinked at him. “How do you know that?”

“My phone,” Tweek said. “I’ve had all my phones jailbroken so nobody can track me since I was thirteen. You never know what the government want from you, man!”

“Fair enough,” Wendy said, and Stan got the impression she didn’t really want to entertain that line of thinking too much. “Well, we’re going to go find a motel now. Maybe get some food there too. Have you eaten?”

“Coffee?” Tweek offered in response, and Wendy just pressed her lips together.

“Dude, how do you even live?” Stan asked, shooting Tweek a look, half-expecting him just to explode right there and then or something.

“I’m fine, gah! I do this shit all the time!”

“Maybe your blood just became caffeine at some point,” Stan said, and Tweek only looked mildly worried at the thought.

“C’mon, let’s get going,” Wendy called, pulling his attention back. “The less we linger, the better.”

“You say that like a guy sat twitching at a bus stop all day wouldn’t get any attention,” Stan muttered, then paused. “Actually, maybe yeah.”

The bus shelter hadn’t been warm, but it was definitely better than the cold outside, and Stan missed the comfort of his hat as the unfamiliar winds brushed past his hair. Some part of him had forgotten they weren’t in South Park anymore, and he had to recalibrate his brain at seeing so many unknown buildings and streets.

As weird as it was though, it didn’t feel unwelcome. This was their first night away, and Stan had no real regrets about leaving yet. He wondered if he’d still feel the same after fifteen days.

It didn’t take them too long to find a place that looked just seedy enough to have its prices below forty dollars, but not too seedy that they’d end up never making it to morning. It was also worth it for the fact that the receptionist hardly even glanced up from her magazine as Wendy slid over the money, counted out in exact change. Between him with his obviously empty coat sleeve and Tweek vibrating on the other side, he was sure they didn’t exactly look like the most normal group.

“I dunno how you can stay in these kinds of places, man,” Tweek said as they walked along the rows of doors, seeking out their number. “I always read about people getting murdered here, ngh.”

“Where were you staying before?” Stan asked, watching as Wendy found the right door and slotted the key in.

“Why would I stay anywhere? I don’t wanna get murdered, ack!”

“Right, ‘cause everyone knows the safest place to be is in a bus shelter all night,” Stan muttered, following Wendy into the room. Smelt kind of dusty, but there were no blood stains on the wall, so Stan figured it was decent enough.

“Well, there’s only two beds, so I guess two of us can share,” Wendy said, placing her bag down on the bed closer to the door. Stan couldn’t help but get the impression she was trying to pre-emptively claim it.

“I don’t need one,” Tweek said, and Stan sent him what felt the fifth judgemental stare since they’d met up with him. “I wasn’t planning on sleep tonight anyway, ngh.”

“You are seriously weird, dude,” Stan said, sitting down on the bed across from Wendy. “Maybe the others were right to be worried about you.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Tweek said, crossing his arms. It was probably telling that he chose to sit down on Wendy’s bed, not his.

“Even if you do, I feel like it’s at least a little in our responsibility to make sure you don’t die,” Wendy said, then paused. “Sorry, I didn’t meant that in a way that might trigger your anxiety.”

“It’s fine,” Tweek muttered, scowling down at himself.

A moment passed, and Stan glanced at Wendy, then back to Tweek, and eventually down at the floor again. It felt awkward, somehow. Like there were things they were supposed to talk about, but nothing really to say. Or maybe it was just awkward to him, he didn’t know.

“…I’m going to order pizza,” Wendy said after a moment, and Stan glanced up. “Any preferences?”

“No meat,” Stan said, and was surprised to see Tweek nod in agreement, even if his head was still down.

“Sure,” Wendy said, before pulling out the burner phone from before. Stan raised an eyebrow.

“You’re seriously using the same phone that you used to make a bomb threat to order pizza?”

“No, this one is Annie’s-“

“Ack, what? _Bomb threat??_ ” Tweek yelped, and Stan sighed.

As much as he didn’t want to, they really needed to talk.

-

Pizza didn’t really make anything better, but it at least didn’t make anything worse.

That kind of applied in general too, but especially right now, as they sat in silence around a box filled with what was more just bread in a half-hearted triangle shape, and a whole lot of oil. But at least afterwards, he felt slightly less like he was going to pass out from exhaustion.

Box tucked away and back on their respective beds, a kind of standoff began between the three of them, each daring the other to speak first. Stan toyed with a string on his jeans, feeling increasingly awkward as the silence dragged on. And predictably enough, it was him to crack first.

“So,” he started, swallowing involuntarily as the others looked at him. “…Craig told you where he was going?”

It wasn’t the best way to start the conversation, and Tweek’s annoyed stare only confirmed that. But, fuck. It was hard to break a silence like that.

“He told me,” Tweek said shortly. Stan waited for more, then realised he wasn’t going to get it without more prompting.

“At the party?”

“He told me at the party.”

“When you spoke to us before,” Wendy spoke up, thankfully deciding to join in. “You were lying, right?”

“Ngh, I wasn’t…completely lying.” Tweek looked uncomfortable at the accusation. “Clyde really did go to Kyle’s house. And I was the only one awake. But, ngh. I knew the reason he went.”

“Right. To stop Kyle.”

“Mm.”

“And he’d already gone.”

“Yeah. That was their plan.” Tweek sighed, fidgeting his hands together. “Craig wasn’t even supposed to go until Thursday. I don’t know why he went a day early. The argument, I guess, ack?”

“You know more than the others, right?” Stan asked. Tweek nodded with a jerk of his head. “So do you know why they left?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” Tweek said. “And, ngh. It’s not up to me to tell you.”

“What?”

“They all left for different reasons,” he continued. “But, ack- I feel like it’s not my place to say that stuff! It’s personal, man.”

“Dude, you can’t do that,” Stan said, frowning. “If you know, you have to tell us.”

“I’m not gonna tell you other people’s shit,” Tweek said, crossing his arms with a defiance Stan wished he could copy. “You don’t have stuff you don’t want other people to know?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Okay, Tweek, you don’t have to tell us about their reasons,” Wendy said, and Stan sent her a look which she easily ignored. “What about _your_ reason?”

“I just…” Tweek let out a hard sigh. “Thought it was stupid from the start. Like- ngh. There were so many better ways to deal, y’know? It kinda pisses me off.”

“And that’s why you left?”

“Pretty much,” Tweek said, voice quieting slightly. “I don’t…think running away is good. It doesn’t fix anything. It just prolongs it. So I had enough. I thought, ngh. It’s gotta end. Gotta start- dealing with shit.”

Stan looked away, feeling guilty for some reason. When he’d seen Tweek at the bus stop, he’d assumed that the guy had totally lost his mind, but apparently he was still pretty coherent. He was probably putting his thoughts together better after over two days with no sleep than Stan could on a normal day. _Sober_.

“…We have to get up early tomorrow,” Wendy said, breaking the silence that had set in. It kind of took Stan by surprise, but even she looked unnerved by Tweek’s comments. “So…maybe we should just call it a night.”

“Mmm.” Tweek shuffled back on the floor to sit against the wall, pulling his phone out from his pocket. Stan was almost jealous, wanting to check for texts or updates or maybe even a reply from Kyle, but he wasn’t about to screw up their entire plan just by being impatient. Not when they were already this far.

It wasn’t until he was under the sheets and staring up at the darkness did Stan suddenly realise exactly what they’d done. Thinking about the kids in their class finding out, the posts on social media, _Cartman’s_ reaction, god…and then his mom ringing the police. Seeing his text but probably not feeling any calmer. The guilt in his stomach was twisting dangerously, and Stan knew it wasn’t just the lingering smell of pizza oil making him feel sick.

Shifting against the lumpy and hard mattress, Stan leaned on his good arm to find where Tweek was sitting, face illuminated by the blue glow of his screen. It somehow wasn’t unexpected that he didn’t bother with the orange sleep filter.

“Hey, Tweek?” Stan called out softly, pretty sure that Wendy was already asleep. He saw Tweek’s eyes glance up to him, flashing in the light.

“What?”

“Uh…” He swallowed. “Do you…I mean- were you and…like- you and Craig. Were you like…a thing…?”

“Does it matter?” Tweek replied, voice soft but tinged with something else Stan was too sleepy to figure out. “What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Do you feel like that towards Kyle?”

Stan stared for a moment, then slumped back against the bed. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter.”

He closed his eyes, and tried not to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick chapter!! more pretty soon ^^


	21. 4th may, wednesday (first half)

**may 4th, wednesday (first half)**

Just like the bus from yesterday, Stan found himself half-asleep but still awake on the train, though this time it had nothing to do with the rattling glass. The journey was smooth, and he kept his head rested against the window, watching his own reflection more than anything else. Tweek was a few seats behind, and Wendy was in the opposite aisle.

This was the last part of the journey. He’d known it was coming, but he still didn’t have a plan. Had no idea what he was going to say. Maybe he’d start crying? Or throw up. Would he be angry? Stan really had no idea. Even if he tried to think about it, it just…didn’t add up. Nothing connected. Part of him wanted to be pissed off, but then he was also hoping that he’d see Kyle as soon as he stepped off the train. And dreading that too.

Well, that wasn’t very likely, but the thought still made him uneasy. This was the sixteenth day of Kyle being missing, and the seventeenth since Stan had last seen him. A lot had changed since then. They’d be able to talk, right?

Kyle…wanted to see him again, right?

The thought was troubling, and Stan tried to push it away as he readjusted his gaze to focus outside the window. The feeling didn’t fade though, and he spent the rest of the journey caught between watching his concerned expression in the window, and trying to force it back into something more neutral.

It felt too soon when the train slowed down to a halt, and Wendy softly called his name, nodding at him as she stood up. This was their stop. They’d finally arrived. With heavy legs, Stan forced himself to follow, aware of Tweek standing up behind him. The gap between the platform and the train had never felt so wide.

The station was- pretty nice. Despite stopping in an unsheltered area, there was a distinct lack of cigarette smoke and graffiti, and it made Stan extra sure that they were in the right place. He’d never been there before, but- he could vaguely recall the way Kyle had described it, all those years ago. If he was going to escape South Park, it made sense he’d at least pick somewhere kind of nice.

“So,” Wendy said as the train pulled away behind them, leaving them stood amongst the small crowds on the platform. “Where do we go now?”

“I don’t know,” Tweek confessed, glancing from side to side. “I only know the town name. I didn’t think they’d even planned out a specific area to stay at.”

“I kind of know?” Stan frowned, glancing across at a map hung up on a wall across from them. “Well, I don’t know the name, but I know what it is.”

“Great,” Wendy said, sighing. “I guess we’re all about as equally lost now.”

“I hope they’re still here,” Stan muttered, putting a hand in his pocket, and Tweek stared at him with wide eyes.

“Oh Jesus, you don’t think we came all this way for nothing, right?? They wouldn’t have just- left, ack!”

“No point focusing on worst case scenarios,” Wendy said, striding over to take a look at the map. “Let’s just work with what we’ve got. Stan, look with Tweek on his phone to see if you can find where about this place is. Maybe they’re somewhere near there.”

“Right, uh.” Stan turned to Tweek, who just twitched at him in expectation. “It…it’s like a place. Uh- I don’t really know what it is, or what it’s like, or what it’s for…”

“Ngh, you’re not really selling this to me, man.”

“It’s got waterfalls,” Stan said quickly, just so they wouldn’t think he was lying. Fuck if he needed that kind of drama again. “It’s- some nice place, and you can see waterfalls, and Kyle liked it there when he was a kid. You have to walk to get up there, but it’s not hard.”

“Okay…” With the amount of shaking Tweek’s hands were doing, Stan was surprised he was even able to type at all. “I think I found it.”

“Is it far?”

“Not really. Twenty-minute walk?”

“Okay.” Wendy took a step back, readjusting her bag. “Can you take a picture of the map? Just in case.”

Tweek held up his phone, and when Stan glanced over at the taken photo, he could see that this time it had come out shaky. Well, better than nothing, he guessed. It was amazing Tweek could even operate it at all at this point. Stan had no idea if he’d gotten any sleep last night.

“Let’s go,” Wendy said, taking a few steps forwards, though before either of them could follow, she turned back and smiled at them. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Stan stared, then nodded.

-

For some reason, Stan had assumed that the moment they found the little area tucked away at the side of the town, everything would suddenly make sense. Like Kyle was going to be there leaning against the wooden signpost, grinning and saying ‘you found me!’. It made the disappointment hit just a little harder when they arrived to find it as unassuming as any place else, still and silent, an old woman retreating down from the trees in the distance.

Stan frowned, looking around. It kind of looked exactly how he was expecting, but then also totally different. They were stood in the parking lot right now – something Stan forgot existed in places like this – and there were a few pigeons eating a discarded sandwich near one of the trash cans. All around them were trees, which Stan assumed lead the trail deeper up into the forest, where all the pretty stuff was.

“Well, this is nice,” Wendy said, crossing her arms as she looked around. “I don’t know if it’s really worth travelling so far for, though.”

“Too high expectations,” Tweek muttered.

“Should we go in?” Wendy asked, and Stan blinked at her.

“Uh, I dunno. Isn’t it like- too soon?”

“Too soon?” Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Stan, this is what we’ve been looking for for over two weeks.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” The thought that Kyle could be so close all of a sudden was too overwhelming, though there was no way he could just outright admit that. From the way they were looking at him, he kind of got the impression the other two already knew why he was freaked out.

“There’s no way Craig’s here anyway,” Tweek said. “I’m gonna, ngh, look around some more.”

“I don’t mind either way,” Wendy said, shrugging, and Stan would’ve almost felt betrayed by her lack of preference for missing kid before he remembered she had only been after answers the whole time.

“Okay, fine,” Stan said. “We can look around first. That’s…probably a better bet than going up there.”

“Oh, Stan,” was all Wendy said, and Stan wanted to give her a look, but she’d already turned around, flipping her hair behind her. “Alright, Tweek. You’re in charge.”

“Oh jeez, that’s a lot of pressure,” Tweek mumbled, hands trembling as he brought out his phone again. “Gh, I think we should just…go around areas near hotels, and stuff like that. If they’re staying there, we might see somebody.”

“Good idea,” Wendy said, nodding, and the two of them set off in the opposite direction, away from the trail. Stan hesitated for just a second. It felt wrong to be leaving so quickly, to blow it off without giving it a chance, but- it was him making those calls, wasn’t it? Besides, he could always…come back later. No, he would come back later. With or without them. Going somewhere else was- still looking. It still counted.

…God, he was really kind of a coward, wasn’t he.

Pulling himself back together, Stan hurried to join the others, wrapping his jacket around him a little more as a gust of wind brushed past. Later, later.

Walking around the main streets of the town, Stan got the impression it was a place pretty popular with tourists. It didn’t have that same ‘insiders only’ vibe that South Park did, and Stan wasn’t entirely sure he liked it. But he could understand why someone like Kyle’s mom would choose to come here, especially with a little kid.

Each street they travelled along was wide, with clean roads and shops that still had all their original lettering intact. Stan kept his head down as Tweek and Wendy took lead, wondering if this place was really that much better than South Park. Knowing it probably was.

“There’s a two-star inn at the bottom of this street, ngh…” Tweek kept scrolling down his phone. “And three hotels across the bridge.”

“Maybe we should split up, at some point,” Wendy suggested, and Stan eyed a couple walking past with their hands joined. “Might be a good way to cover more ground.”

“I dunno, man. I’m the only one with a phone, so…”

“I still have one burner left.”

“Ngh, girls are kinda weird,” Tweek muttered. “N-no offense.”

“None taken,” Wendy said wryly, and Stan distantly found himself wondering why she’d hang around the girls when she didn’t share values with them, and didn’t even like that much. Stan wouldn’t have last five minutes.

“Once we get across the river, there’s a bunch more we need to check out,” Tweek said. “Ghh…this make take a while…”

“We’ve got enough money for at least a week,” Wendy said, shrugging. “Though I can’t promise pizza every night.”

“Tasted like shit anyway,” Stan muttered, and felt Wendy’s disapproving stare on him without even looking.

“Don’t start getting all pouty just because you chose not to go up that hike,” she started. “If you want to go look, you’re still very much wel…”

The sudden cut-off mid-scolding was so out of character that Stan glanced up to see Wendy’s face, only to see her looking at something in the distance. He followed her gaze, and stared.

“Holy shit.”

“Gah!”

“Oh my god.”

Across from them, walking out from the sliding doors of a convenience store, was an all too familiar tuft of blonde hair – even if covered by the hood of a blue jacket. Their stares didn’t go unnoticed, as he stopped, eyes wide, plastic bag gripped at his side.

“Dude, shit,” Stan said. “Is it bad I literally forgot Butters was even missing?”

“Yes,” Wendy retorted. “But actually, me too.”

“Ngh, I _kind of_ remembered…”

Butters was still stood frozen, blinking as if he was staring at the face of an eighteen-wheeler instead of three of his classmates. Stan decided to be the one to put him out of his misery, walking over to him. If there was anything he was scared of, it definitely wasn’t Butters.

“Oh jeez,” he was saying, glancing around him as if there was no escape despite the open space. “Oh jeez, this is- uh. Oh…”

“Butters,” Stan started, feeling the other two take a place next to him. “Dude. What’re you doing?”

“Uh, well, I was just buyin’ some groceries,” he floundered, then slumped slightly. “Ah, I guess the game is over, huh? Oh jeez, I hope the others aren’t gonna be too angry…”

“The others?” Stan’s chest tightened. “You know where Kyle is?”

“And Craig?” Tweek added beside him, but Stan brushed the inquiry off. Craig could go fuck himself right now honestly, that was all Tweek’s territory now as far as he was concerned.

“Oh, well, we haven’t really been spendin’ much time together,” Butters said, the bag crinkling as fidgeted his fingers together. “When we got here, we kinda separated, so. It’s just me.”

“Dude,” Stan groaned.

“Where are you staying, Butters?” Wendy asked, stepping forwards slightly. “Maybe we can talk some?”

Butters nodded slowly, head still slightly angled down. “Yeah. Guess there’s no escapin’ it anymore. Ah well, I was almost out of cash anyway.”

“If you need money, we can help,” Tweek offered, and Butters perked up just a little at the offer.

“Aw, that’s awfully sweet of you,” he said, smile small. “To be honest, I’m really glad you fellas are all here. Oh, and Wendy, even though you’re not a fella.”

“It’s okay, Butters, we can talk about this and try to figure everything out,” Wendy said, and Butters flinched as she put a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you take us to where you’re staying?”

-

To Butters’ credit, he wasn’t actually living on the street, which Stan was honestly kind of surprised by. It was small, had no windows, and did nothing to stop the rattle of traffic from outside, but as far as he could see, there were no bullet holes. Again, good enough. Butters didn’t seem fazed at all either, sitting down onto the bed and tucking his legs up under him as if they were about to start spilling secrets at a sleepover.

“Uh, you can sit down if you want!” Butters said, and the four of them seemed to glance around at the bare room at the same time. “Though I guess there ain’t much room…”

Stan just slumped down against the wall facing the bed, stretching out one leg in front of him, and Tweek and Wendy went for the spare areas of the bed. It felt kind of weird being below them down on the floor, but he wasn’t really sure how much he could contribute to this conversation anyway. The sinking feeling that Butters hardly knew anything about Kyle’s whereabouts had already settled hard in his gut.

“Well, I guess you got a lot of questions, but I don’t really know where to start,” Butters said, scrunching his face up. “How come you fellas are all out here anyway? I didn’t know anyone else was joinin’.”

“We came out here looking for you all,” Wendy explained. “Can you just start from the beginning? You did run away, right? That’s what this was?”

“Well, I guess you could call it that,” Butters said, fiddling with his sleeves. “See, I think it was Kyle and Craig that thought of it, and uh, Kenny found out, and he said ‘Butters, you should go and join them, ‘cause your parents are uh, awfully mean’, so I ended up taggin’ along too.”

“Yeah, Kenny talks just like that,” Stan muttered.

“I dunno, I didn’t really wanna leave,” Butters carried on, frowning. “The other two seemed really set on it, and they made all these plans, but I didn’t really know what I was meant to be doin’. And when I got here we only spent a few hours together, and after that…” Butters shrugged. “I’ve just been, uh. Enjoyin’ the freedom, I guess? I think that’s what Kenny said I oughta do…”

“I guess you did just disappear without much of a trace,” Wendy said, humming.

“I bet my parents are pretty mad, huh,” Butters said, pulling a face.

“Dude, if I had your parents, I’d never go back,” Stan said, but Butters just looked mildly uncomfortable at the suggestion.

“There must be a real fuss back home,” he said, sighing. “Kenny said he wanted to get my parents in trouble, but I don’t really get why.”

“’Cause they’re assholes, dude. Seriously.”

“Naw, they’re not that bad,” Butters said, shifting his shoulders. “It’s just me, I’m always doin’ stuff to get into trouble. Bet they’re never gonna let me out again, after this! Aw, jeez…”

“Gh, out of everyone, I kind of understand your reason best,” Tweek said quietly, eyes low.

“Nah, I just left ‘cause Kenny said I should,” Butters said. “Hey, how come he didn’t come with you guys anyway? He kept saying he wanted to join us, but couldn’t.”

“Yeah, same thing,” Stan said, then paused. Had he dreamt that? The memory didn’t seem quite…real, looking back. “I dunno. Kenny’s weird.”

“I think he’s pretty sweet,” Butters said with a smile, holding his head back up. “Are you fellas staying here tonight too? If you want, you can share with me. Or maybe even get a room! They’re pretty cheap.”

“Makes sense,” Wendy said, nodding. Stan really hoped he wouldn’t be coerced into sharing with Butters.

“I still don’t think I’ll need it,” Tweek said. “I, ngh, saw a coffee shop before. I can just go there.”

“Oh wow, that’s pretty mature of you, drinking all that coffee,” Butters said, and Stan didn’t voice his disagreement. He wondered if that was how people thought about him whenever he drank. Though, to be fair, it had been a pretty long time since he last had.

“I might go check it out, ack,” Tweek said, head twitching to the side. “Gives me chance to look some more too.”

“Sure!” Butters said cheerily. “But don’t stay out too late!”

Tweek made a small noise as he pulled himself up, glancing around them once more as if unsure if he should say anything else, before he nodded and made for the door. Stan kind of envied him, in a way. For all he shook and jittered and everything else, he was actually pretty motivated. Really…driven. 

Maybe it was the coffee.

With the sound of the door shutting, the room fell into near silence, and Stan pressed his back against the wall. He could almost sense the other two scrambling for something to say to break the quiet. Stan couldn’t remember if Butters and Wendy even got along anymore. It seemed like they should, but he wasn’t sure. Butters ended up on Cartman’s side a lot, and that was a side that Wendy was never going to join.

“…Y’know, I think it’s kinda sweet of you all to come out here like this,” Butters started, and Stan looked up.

“’Sweet’?” he repeated, frowning.

“Like, Tweek comin’ out to see Craig, and you for Kyle,” Butters said, smile soft as he stared down at his lap. “I think they’ll want to see you.”

“…Sorry that Kenny couldn’t come,” Stan said, almost feeling bad for him, in a way. It wasn’t that they didn’t care…it was just…well, Butters hadn’t made as much of a fuss, so…

“Nah, I get it.” Butters shook his head. “He probably has to take care of his little sister and that! He’s a real swell guy.”

“…Yeah.” Stan tried not to think about the time he’d watched Kenny eat a live worm for three dollars.

“But I don’t get it,” Butters carried on, turning to look at Wendy. “Do you love Kyle too? ‘Cause I sure wouldn’t have guessed that!”

“I don’t love Kyle,” Wendy replied smoothly, and Stan swore he could hear the smirk in her voice as his face burned, eyes trained on the carpet. “I was just curious for the answer.”

“And because you thought I was a murderer,” Stan couldn’t help but add, still not looking up.

“Partially that too,” Wendy said lightly.

“Oh, wow,” Butters said. “Well, I guess you guys must be pretty sad too, in a way. And Tweek as well!”

Stan blinked up. “What…do you mean?”

“’Cause you ran away too,” Butters explained, shrugging. “And I kind of get the impression you gotta be pretty desperate if you wanna do that.”

“Well…you did too,” Stan pointed out.

“Right.” Wendy crossed her arms.

“Yeah, but that’s just ‘cause everyone else did,” Butters said. “But you guys are just like Craig and Kyle, right? You came out here to look for somethin’.”

“I mean…I guess?” Stan wasn’t sure it was fair to phrase it like that, like they were all the same. They weren’t really. Were they?

“Sad and lonely,” Butters carried on, rocking back slightly. “But it’s strange, because even after I met up with them here, I didn’t think they looked all that different. They came all this way but they didn’t find anythin’. And I guess you fellas haven’t either yet, huh? Well, you found me! And Tweek found a coffee shop. I guess that’s somethin’.”

Stan kept quiet, torn between feeling irritated and upset at the comment. Partly because he knew it was true. And maybe Wendy too, based on the frown she was wearing. She’d been lonely too, right? Even if she hid it. They were all just searching for stuff that should’ve been right in front of them. Pretending they couldn’t see. Thinking the answer had to be somewhere far away?

They should’ve spoke at that party. And they should’ve spoken even before then. Maybe if they’d both stopped acting like it was the end of the world, and just… _talked_ …

“When you find them, maybe you’ll all get that gloomy look out your eyes,” Butters contained, as if the mood in the room hadn’t become downcast and unsettled. “I really hope so, ‘cause Kyle and Craig look pretty scary when they’re sad. But Wendy, who are you gonna find?”

“…I don’t know,” Wendy said after a moment. “Myself, I guess.”

“That sounds like a pretty good place to start!” Butters cheered, and Stan eyed him again. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if Butters was actually pretty clued in, or just fell on the answer by total fluke. Either way, it was kind of weird. “But I sure do hope we can all get back soon. I kinda miss school, and my bed.”

“Yeah,” Stan said, nodding just a little. “Let’s hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> butters!!!!! sorry that everybody in this fic forgot about you unu


	22. 15th april, friday

**april 15th, friday**

“Hey, Butters! Wait up!”

Pausing with one foot on the stairs, Butters turned around, spotting the hooded figure of Kenny hurrying towards him. On instinct, Butters smiled brightly, backing away from the stairs.

“Oh, hey there, Kenny! It’s been kind of a while, huh!”

“Couple weeks,” Kenny said, shrugging. A couple of freshmen girls walked past and his gaze was distracted momentarily, before his stare focused back to Butters. “You wanna sit together at lunch today?”

“Oh, uh, sure!” Butters readjusted his bag. “Did somethin’ happen?”

“Not really. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Butters stared, trying to see if he could identify anything horrible or scary in Kenny’s eyes, but he just looked as easy-going as always. Well, that was good to see, at least. It’d be a real shame if there was bad stuff going on.

“Sure, Kenny!”

“Let’s go outside, ‘kay?” Kenny tilted his head towards the end of the corridor, still crowded with a few other students. “The snow’s pretty much all gone.”

“I guess it’s really starting to become spring,” Butters said, following as Kenny set off down the hall, tugging his arm. “And, uh, that means we’ll be graduating soon. And jeez, I don’t really know what’s gonna happen about all that…it feels kinda like we’ve been in school forever, huh, Kenny.”

“Sure does.” A cold gust of wind hit them as Kenny pushed the door open, and Butters squinted a little against the breeze, still being taken along with Kenny. It seemed like one of those times that a big adventure was going to start, but Butters wasn’t really sure if he wanted one of those, since they were getting their algebra test results back next class. If he got below a seventy, his parents were going to ground him.

The yard was fairly packed with other students, but Kenny took him over to the steps at the side where nobody else was sat yet. Butters was half in the mind set of hoping none of the older kids would come over and tell them to move, before he realised that they _were_ the older kids. And even then, it was hard to imagine anyone standing up to Kenny anyhow.

“I wonder if any of the other kids are gonna notice us gone,” Butters said thoughtfully, thinking of his usual table in the lunchroom. “Well, I guess probably not, since Eric is normally pretty loud. And it’s the last day today, so I bet he’s got a lot of things he wants to say before we all split up for the week!”

“Hey, Butters,” Kenny said, and Butters turned to look at him, blinking. “You going to Clyde’s party tomorrow?”

“Oh, uh. No, I don’t think so.”

“You should go,” Kenny said, his eyes glinting just a little. The smile that was surely hidden beneath his hood gave Butters just a little more confidence, but he still couldn’t say he was too sure. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, but, I think kids are gonna be drinkin’ n’ that, and I’ll get into trouble if my parents find out.”

“You can always leave early.” Kenny was watching him carefully. “Or, just not give a shit about your parents. You’re already eighteen.”

“Yeah, but they’d still ground me,” Butters said, furrowing his brows.

“Butters, it’s the last year of high school,” Kenny kept trying, leaning towards him slightly, hands in his lap. “You gotta go to at least one party. And this is bound to be way tamer than the end of year party.”

“Yeah, but…I dunno.”

“Are you doing anything after graduation?” Kenny asked then, and Butters turned his gaze towards the steps, watching an ant crawl slowly along the grit. He must’ve been pretty cold to be out at this time. “You should move out. Get away from your parents.”

“I don’t think they’d like that very much.”

“That’s the _point_ ,” Kenny said, frowning just a little. “Aren’t you ready to finally get away?”

“Are you gonna go somewhere after graduation?” Butters asked, and Kenny dropped his stare. “Oh, I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“It’s not that. I just…don’t know if I can get away from here.”

“I guess you still gotta look after your family, too.”

“Kind of. It’s hard to explain.” Kenny’s eyes steeled as he looked back up. “Look, I think you should go to the party tomorrow. I have something to tell you, but you can’t tell anyone else.”

“Oh, jeez.” It was starting to sound more and more like a big adventure was going to happen. Maybe if he was lucky, he could get Scott to pick up his results for him.

“You promise, Butters?”

“Uh, I promise.” _Oh, please don’t let it be something illegal._

“Craig and Kyle are gonna disappear,” Kenny said, and Butters felt his eyes grow large. “I think you should go with them.”

“Oh, no, Kenny, I can’t disappear! I’ll get grounded!”

“Not if they never find you.” The seriousness in Kenny’s expression made Butters uncomfortable, and he twisted his fingers together. “It’s your perfect chance to get away. Kyle’s smart. He could get you far away from here, and nobody would know.”

“Why are they goin’ away?” Butters asked, still wringing his hands around each other.

“I dunno, personal shit.” Kenny shrugged again. “I’d go too, but, like I said. When I leave here, I come right back.”

“Well I can’t go either.” Butters crossed his arms in a way he hoped made him seem resolute, even if he didn’t feel like he was. “I don’t wanna get in no trouble.”

Kenny let out a sigh, shaking his head. “I can’t force you, dude. But you can’t spend all your life with your parents.”

“Well, they’ll die eventually,” Butters pointed out, but Kenny’s dismayed expression didn’t change.

“Okay, maybe you don’t have to go forever,” he carried on. “What about just for a few weeks? Travel with those guys, see how you like the freedom. Then you can decide afterwards if sticking around here is really what you want.”

“Uhhh…”

“I really think it would make things better for you,” Kenny said, and he had such sincere emotion in his eyes that it was hard for Butters not to feel it in his heart. “I know what it’s like to have shitty parents. But it doesn’t have to define us.”

“Aw, I don’t think I’m too defined by that stuff.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be able to do your own thing?” Kenny asked. “Don’t you ever get, like- pissed off with your parents? Like you just wanna leave?”

“Well, sure I do, but that’s just ‘cause I’m not all that good,” Butters muttered, frowning back down again, but the ant was gone.

“Do you think I’m good?” Kenny asked, pulling up his knees and resting his head on them, lulled at an angle.

“Of course you are, Kenny!”

“You’re way better than me,” Kenny said, watching him with careful eyes. It was always strange to Butters how he could have most of his face covered but still manage to shine with emotion at times. “I think you deserve this more than anybody.”

“I just…don’t even know what I’d do with that much freedom,” he mumbled.

“You’d find out, right?” Kenny said, and his eyes started gleaming with some kind of fantastic vision Butters couldn’t see but was sure interested to hear about. “Kyle’s gonna go to this far away town at the edge of Colorado, and maybe you could keep going further. Find a nice place and figure things out there, enjoy your freedom. Maybe I could even join you later, for as long as I can- or send Karen up…it’d be nice, huh?”

“Gee, Kenny, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak that much,” Butters said, grinning, and Kenny tucked his head back down slightly into his hood. Hopefully that didn’t mean he was regretting it, because Butters liked to hear about those kind of fun things. Imagining stuff was sometimes a whole lot better than real life. “I guess that kind of adventure could be fun, but I’m not sure I’m that cut out for it.”

“But would you try?”

Butters frowned a little, trying to figure out the two sides of his mind. One side was saying it was a bad and scary idea, bound to end up with him feeling kind of angry and sad like always, pushed aside in the middle of nowhere. His parents would have to come pick him up, and then he’d be grounded all the way through summer, and maybe even after that too. And that got awful boring after a while. His room always ended up feeling like a prison cell, or something.

But that shine in Kenny’s eyes, the way he dragged him aside to ask him specifically, having all these hopes of a fun life and freedom and no more groundings…it was nice to see. Nice to think about. It could go wrong, though. But- Kyle _was_ pretty smart, and Craig too. Even if they could sometimes be kind of sour and angry in a way Butters thought seemed way too much effort.

“I guess I could try,” Butters mumbled. “But- if things end up goin’ bad, you gotta vouch for me, okay?”

“Sure.” Kenny’s eyes gleamed with a grin as he lifted his head from his knees. “Come to the party tomorrow, and we can discuss it. You don’t have to drink if you don’t want. Tell your parents everyone was drinking soda if they ask.”

“A lil’ white lie, huh,” Butters said.

“Yup, a white lie.” Kenny winked at him. “I think tomorrow will be pretty interesting too. Lots of drama.”

“Oh boy.”

“We can bet on who’s gonna argue and who’s gonna make out.”

“Oh, I dunno about those kinds of bets…”

Kenny snickered, soft voice muffled behind his hood. Apparently he didn’t have any other fantastical things to say, as he just leaned back against the step, glancing out across the yard. There was nobody at the end of his line of vision, and Butters wondered if sometimes he was looking at something greater than anyone else could see. For Kenny, it probably wouldn’t be too hard.

“Guess we better start on lunch before the bell rings!” Butters said, unzipping his bag and pulling out all the stuff he’d packed away that morning. Almost without thinking, he took out half of his sandwich and handed it over to Kenny, grinning at the sparkle in his eyes. “Since it’s the last day, we can split my chocolate too!”

“You don’t have to do that, Butters. It’s your lunch.”

“Well, it can be a kinda trade,” Butters said, hand still around the clingfilm. “You split my lunch with me, and I’ll go to that party. That’s a, uh, fair exchange, huh?”

“Not at all,” Kenny said with a soft smile in his eyes, then shook his head, taking the sandwich. “I wish this world was full of people like you.”

“Nah, I’m no good.”

“You should believe the people who have no reason to lie to you,” Kenny said, back into his wise voice. Butters stared for a moment, before turning back to his lunch. This wasn’t all that new, and often Kenny left him questioning if the things he saw as fact were even true at all. It was confusing, and made his head hurt a little, but sometimes he liked to get lost in those kind of ideas. Maybe it was dangerous, but- he liked it. Thinking about his parents being wrong, thinking about him being the strong one, the powerful one. No more being the bad guy.

“Yeah, maybe I should,” he said, and started his half of the lunch.

-

Algebra wasn’t his strongest subject, but he’d still managed to keep in the safe waters, so his steps felt just a little lighter on the walk home. Not that he wasn’t still distracted; Kenny’s words and stares from earlier were still fresh on his mind, but at least they weren’t a bad distraction. Better than practicing how best to duck his head in response to getting grounded.

It had been a good few hours since then, and Butters had been unable to stop himself from keeping watch of Kyle throughout the class, wondering what kind of plans he was stewing up. All the stress on his face had been obvious, too. Butters hadn’t understood how he hadn’t noticed before, but it sure was clear something was bothering him. Only having one class left was almost a shame, since he was sure if he got to see Craig, he’d be the same way. And Butters had never seen stress on a guy like Craig’s face. What a sight it would’ve been.

Still thinking back to the class, Butters opened the front door and walked across the room, seeing his father sat on the sofa, reading. With a shift of the paper, he glanced across at Butters.

“You have a good day, Butters?”

“Oh, yeah!” Butters smiled. “My day was pretty good!”

“How was your sports class?”

“Sports?” He blinked, frowning. “Oh, uh, I didn’t have any sports class today, Dad.”

“Oh, really?” His dad turned the page. “Thought you must’ve got hit in the head or something, since you forgot to leave your bag at the door.”

“Oh, uh-“ Butters quickly shrugged his backpack off his bag, hurrying back to the door to tuck it in its rightful place. Just whilst he was out of sight of his dad, he pulled a face, though quickly wiped it off when he ran back to the lounge. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t make your dad worried now.”

“Yeah,” Butters said, then fidgeting a little. “But, uh- I passed my algebra test!”

“Well, good for you, Butters!” his dad said, smiling, and Butters felt a slight rise of hope in his chest. “But just for that bag, I’m afraid you’re still grounded.”

“Aw.” Butters bit his lip, turning around and skulking upstairs with his head low. Seemed he should’ve been thinking about it after all. Now he wouldn’t be able to go to that party, and wouldn’t be able to go on any adventure, away from his dad…

As he stepped into his room, Butters stopped, chewing his cheek. Thinking about that again, he wondered what it would really be like to have the kind of freedom Kenny talked about. Being able to choose the colours of his bed, and his walls, and where to put his stuff, and being able to leave his bag wherever he wanted…

That sure would be something, huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally a glimpse of the world outside of stan's pov lol ^^;;;


	23. 4th may, wednesday (second half)

**may 4th, wednesday (second part)**

By the time the sun had started to sink down, the four of them had ended up gathered back in Butters’ room, sat around listlessly in near silence. Nobody was saying it, but Stan knew they were all thinking the same thing. They’d arrived here and they’d looked, but the only person they’d managed to find so far was Butters. And, honestly, Stan was sure that no-one really cared about that. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d forgotten that Butters had even disappeared in the first place.

His place against the wall was beginning to feel uncomfortably comfortable, and Stan shifted slightly just to make sure he wouldn’t get too used to being there. Sure, he’d gone out earlier and searched again for a bit, but not for long. It had felt weird, walking around and eyeing people to see if they had red hair or a long nose. At least he had a testimony from Butters that Kyle hadn’t dyed his hair or anything. Just- cut it. But that didn’t surprise Stan. He did that a lot.

It was dark outside, but the boredom was starting to push Stan to go out and try another search of the area. Just as he was starting to seriously contemplate the idea, a voice broke the silence.

“Should we get something to eat?” Wendy suggested, and Tweek’s head jerked away from his phone as Butters looked up from his book which Stan was sure had an intended demographic of at least five years younger.

“Ngh, sure,” Tweek said, one of his hands twitching like it was unsure of what to do with itself. “Need a refill anyway.”

“Aw, sorry, fellas, I already bought somethin’ earlier…” Butters said sadly. “But if you wanna come back here after, you’re sure welcome to!”

“Thanks, Butters,” Stan muttered, pulling himself up slowly despite the fact his arm hadn’t hurt from standing in over a week. “I’ll join you. Probably getting a disease sat on that floor.”

“Oh Jesus, don’t say that, man!” Tweek yelped, jumping up in one swift movement. “You don’t think that can you really happen, do you?? I looked online and it said you couldn’t but ack!”

“I mean, too late now, if there is,” Stan said, shrugging, and Tweek’s eyes bulged.

“I’m sure the floors are perfectly fine,” Wendy said, shaking her head at Stan as she stood up too. “We’ll see you soon, Butters. If anything changes, we’ll let you know.”

“Alright!” Butters nodded at them with a smile as they left. It was a kind of a wonder to Stan that he hadn’t actually been kidnapped for real yet. He definitely seemed the most likely victim for that kind of thing.

The walk around felt somewhat aimless despite trying the goal of finding somewhere to eat, and Stan wasn’t really surprised when they just decided to go into a random convenience store to pick something up. It probably would’ve been weird to go to a restaurant or something. Too much like a holiday. A celebration.

Stan leaned back against the wall as he waited for the others, still glancing at the few passer-by’s. Most of the crowds had dispersed by now, and Stan got the impression this was the kind of place to stay for the day, but not much longer. Outside of being pretty, it really didn’t have much going for it.

“Still looking?” Wendy’s voice asked from beside him, and he turned to see her exiting the shop, smiling cordially.

“Well, yeah. Obviously.”

She moved to stand next to him so they were both looking out over the street, and for once, didn’t say anything else. Stan glanced at her.

“Did you mean what you said before?”

“Hm?”

“About trying to find yourself,” Stan clarified, and Wendy’s smile softened slightly.

“I guess.” She took a few seconds before she carried on. “I think I was trying to find a friend, too. People I could be myself around. You know, I’ve felt more honest in these past two weeks than I have done for like, three years.”

“Jesus.”

“I know.”

“You should just like, be yourself, dude,” Stan said. “You’re pretty cool. Most of the girls are just dumb.”

“Like the boys aren’t,” Wendy scoffed.

“Yeah, well. Everyone’s dumb. That better?”

Wendy just shook her head, laughing, and Stan probably would’ve carried on the conversation a little longer if Tweek didn’t come out the shop at that moment. Still coffee-less, since he’d told them that convenience store coffee was a ‘serious human rights violation against those who had to drink it’, which Stan hadn’t asked him to expand on.

“One more stop until we head back then,” Wendy said as the three of them set off walking down the wide streets. “You wanna stay with Butters?”

“With one bed?” Stan raised an eyebrow. “Even without Tweek sleeping, that’s kind of…”

“We could always get another room. He said they were pretty cheap.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess. See if you can get one with a TV or something though, dude. It’s getting crazy boring.”

“You could’ve brought a book.”

“I wanna make it less boring, not more,” Stan muttered.

“Stan-“

The start of whatever disapproving lecture Wendy was preparing was interrupted by the sound of a plastic bag dropping against the sidewalk, somewhere to his right. Stan glanced over, scared for a moment that the sleep deprivation had caught up with Tweek and he'd just straight up passed out, but when he turned to look, Tweek was already storming off in front of them, fists clenched at his side.

“Hey, Tweek-“ Stan tried to call after him, but his steps were too quick, and Stan stared for a second in confusion before deciding to at least pick up the bag. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Wendy said, frowning. They watched as he strode up over to the bridge, only the side of his face illuminated by the streetlights, and that was when Stan noticed.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah, oh fuck.”

Stan couldn’t even be surprised by Wendy’s mirrored agreement since his mind was already too focused on what was in front of him. Or- who. The guy who’d apparently thrown himself into a river and left only his hat behind. Craig.

They were still a couple of metres behind as they hurried to catch up, but Stan could still hear Tweek’s voice as he demanded ‘what are you _doing_?!’ with such intensity that Stan was honestly kind of surprised Tweek hadn’t gone all out and just punched Craig or something. The lighting wasn’t great, but the same flash of the light that was catching Tweek’s face made Craig’s eyes glint as he stepped backwards, and Stan knew for sure it was definitely him. Nobody else had that same ‘I-don’t-give-a-shit’ face.

“Tweek-“ Craig said, and looked almost caught off-guard for a second, which was an expression Stan really couldn’t remember seeing on his face before. “Why are you here-?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Tweek jabbed back, eyes narrowed as he took a step closer to Craig. It was weird seeing him after so long, especially after a good number of days where Stan had thought he was dead. Though it was definitely Craig, despite being hat-less and slightly less non-stoic. There was no mistaking that.

“I don’t know,” was all Craig said in response, and Tweek started vibrating so much Stan was sure he was about to explode. It was probably a good thing there weren’t too many people out right now.

“You don’t know?” Tweek repeated, voice growing louder.” “You really, ngh, don’t know? You have no idea why any of this might’ve caused a problem for anyone? Might’ve caused a problem for any of your friends, ack?”

“I mean, I did tell you-“

“It doesn’t matter if you told us!! Nobody else knows that! The _police_ don’t know!” Tweek shook his head violently. “I’m _here_ because whatever thing you’re doing has gone on long enough! You know that they think Clyde had something to do with it??”

Craig frowned, but didn’t step back again as Tweek drew closer. “What? Why?”

“Because he was worried!! He was worried and he didn’t want you to go, and he tried to stop you all and now everyone’s going after him! Gh, not to mention he’s been crying like, every day!”

“That’s just Clyde.”

“No! It’s everyone! It doesn’t matter that you told us where you were going, we still had no idea if you were okay! Token was worried! Jimmy was worried! Your whole family were worried, ack!”

Craig frowned, crossing his arms despite Tweek still being entirely in his personal space. “That’s not my fault.”

“How?? You chose this!”

“I don’t choose what other people feel.” Craig kept his eyes to the side. “Those guys are just like that. Not my fault.”

“ _I_ was worried too, Craig!” Tweek burst out, and Craig faltered just a little. “And don’t try to act like you don’t care about me, because you were the one who kissed _me_ at that party.”

It was Stan’s turn to look away, the awkwardness of the situation soaring far past the point of just watching two people argue. He made an effort to turn away, but Wendy grabbed his arm.

“Dude, we shouldn’t be watching this,” he hissed. “It’s personal.”

“It’s just getting good,” Wendy replied, eyes shining as they remained glued to the scene. Stan frowned at her as the argument carried on, though the volume had dipped to something slightly quieter now.

“If you were so worried, you could’ve just come with me,” Craig said, and for once in his life didn’t sound uncaring or judgmental.

“No, man!” Tweek exclaimed. “I’m not going to run away! And- you know what, it’s, ngh, not like I’ve never thought about it. And it’s not like I don’t want to! You think I like being forced to work all day selling coffee that used to be illegal, ack? Hearing people call me a freak at school for years? You think I like _my_ parents? Hell no, man! But if I run away, it doesn’t _fix_ anything! Did it fix anything for you, Craig?”

For just a second, Craig managed to glance back at Tweek, before instantly diverting his eyes again. Stan couldn’t say he blamed him. Even with the height difference, Tweek was still radiating far more intimidation than Craig. Stan doubted he was even trying to fight it.

“You just don’t get it,” Craig said eventually, and Tweek untensed slightly.

“I know I don’t get it,” he said. “Because you won’t tell me. And it’s not fair, ack. If I can tell you bad things, you should be able to tell me too.”

“It’s not bad stuff,” Craig muttered. “I just left because I couldn’t be bothered.”

“Couldn’t be bothered with what?”

“Everything.” He shrugged. “I’m not trying to fix anything. This was just easier.”

“Is that what you’re telling yourself?” Tweek asked, narrowing his eyes. “You always say you hate drama, and then you go and do the most dramatic thing possible, ack.”

“…No,” Craig said, but it fell flat. Well, flatter than usual, Stan supposed.

“Was it something to do with me?” Tweek asked then, voice quiet, and Craig’s eyes flew to him in what almost seemed like panic.

“I- no, Tweek, it’s-“ Craig pressed his lips together. “It’s-…you should’ve just come with me.”

“You should’ve just stayed,” Tweek muttered. “You should just come back.”

Stan made another attempt to escape Wendy’s grip, shrugging his arm away from her as she kept staring with starry eyes. Any longer, and he was scared they were going to kiss or something.

“Wendy, we should go,” he tried again, voice low. She shook her head.

“I saw a film like this once,” she said, still not looking away. “But somehow it’s so much better when it’s two guys.”

“Dude,” Stan said weakly, but realised his arm was free, which meant _he_ was free. Whilst Wendy was still distracted, he made a beeline away from the scene, half-aware that if he wanted to get back to Butters’ room, he’d have to go across the bridge. And absolutely fuck that. Just watching had been awkward enough. No way was he going to attempt to just casually stroll past them whilst they re-enacted a losing Oscar nominee’s finale scene.

He made his way up the opposite street, just slightly hoping that he’d up with the same miracle luck as Tweek and spot Kyle wandering around somewhere. He even still had the plastic bags to drop for dramatic effect. God, he really hoped they wouldn’t fight though. He didn’t have the energy to yell like Tweek had.

Stan managed to spot a bench over by some bushes and retreated to its solitude, pressing his back against the chilled metal. Watching them had just made him feel- unnerved, somehow. And knowing that those rumours were true. It was so- weird. Weird knowing that they were actually gay. Weird that they’d- kissed.

Stan wondered how things would’ve turned out if he’d have been kissed at that party.

Shoving his hand into the bag, Stan grabbed the sandwich he’d bought earlier and sat in silence on the bench, trying to force away his thoughts. Just because Tweek and Craig were…it didn’t mean…like, that was statistically unlikely anyway, so…

Yeah. There was probably no way that would ever happen to him. Or at least, not the way he was imagining him. Those two might have some kind of soft and gentle relationship, but Stan just got screamed at at parties. Just fucked things up, and got drunk.

God. If he was feeling jealous of someone like Craig or Tweek, he must be really messed up. Stan sighed. He’d wait until it was cold enough that his fingers went numb through his gloves, and then go back. Hopefully they’d be finished by then.

-

It felt like later than it actually was by the time Stan got back to the hotel, which he realised upon seeing the clock in the lobby still a couple hours behind his mind’s. Not even just the hours, too; he felt like this day had lasted weeks.

He was surprised in himself for managing to remember the room number after not writing it down anywhere. Sure, he had his phone for emergencies, but he still wasn’t sure it was safe to turn it on yet, and he didn’t even have Tweek’s number. It was kind of jarring how easy it was to remember and pay attention to stuff whilst totally sober.

When Stan opened the door, the first thing he noticed was the silence of the room. And then Wendy and Butters sat crossed legged on the floor, a pack of cards spread out between them in the small gap. And then Craig sat up on the bed, Tweek next to him. Asleep.

Stan almost said ‘holy fuck he’s asleep’ before he realised that would maybe be the worst thing to say in a silent room with people sleeping, and instead glanced between the floor and the bed with his mouth agape, looking for an answer. Butters waved at him, so he chose to go to the two of them first.

“Hey, Stan!” Butters greeted in a hushed voice, and Stan folded his legs to fit better in the little space they had. “Did you have a nice walk?”

Stan nodded, resisting the urge to look behind him. “What happened?”

“It was pretty dramatic,” Wendy whispered, then placed the six of spades down in front of her, making Butters screw up his mouth. “And very cute. You should’ve stuck around to watch.”

“Not my thing,” he replied. “Did Tweek really fall asleep?”

“Poor fella must’ve been really tired,” Butters said, voice just a little louder than the two of them. “Only took him ten or so minutes and he was totally knocked out.”

“No shit, he hardly slept for the past three days.”

“Can you guys shut up?” Craig’s voice interrupted, and Stan turned to see him staring at them, face decisively unimpressed. It was still weird having him there, and Stan itched to talk to him, to ask him stuff, but knew he’d probably just get hushed again. God, Stan was happy that Tweek was sleeping, but couldn’t he have picked a better time?

The three of them kept quiet for a couple minutes, and Stan just watched as they shuffled the cards around, taking turns to place one in a rhythm he couldn’t seem to figure out.

“I didn’t know there were any card games with two players,” he whispered after the silence had dragged out just a little too long. Wendy just shot him a look that said it hadn’t been her suggestion to play, though she seemed to be taking it seriously enough. “Are we staying here for tonight? ‘Cause like, there’s not really enough space.”

“Lobby said we could upgrade for a discount if we do it before ten,” Wendy said. “We’re all gonna chip in. You wanna?”

“Sure.” Stan shrugged. “It’s kinda cramped here. Probably illegal too.”

Butters gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry! If I knew you were all comin’, I’d have got a bigger room.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wendy said, shaking her head. “I’ll go ask now. Wanna come with?”

“Yeah, whatever. Beats getting snapped at by Craig.”

Stan pulled himself up as best he could, knocking the pile of cards slightly with his knee. Neither Butters or Wendy seemed to mind, standing up with him. They all turned to Craig, who stared back at them.

“Dude, we’re gonna switch rooms,” Stan said, glancing uncertainly at Tweek.

“Fine, whatever,” Craig said, shifting to swing his legs off the bed, rolling his shoulders as he did so. Almost the second his body left the bed, Tweek flew up, eyes wide as he scanned the room frantically. Craig put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

“You’re…” Tweek started, then blinked, memories seeming to return. “What’s going on?”

“We’re changing rooms,” Stan said, unable to take his eyes off Craig’s hand on Tweek’s shoulder. It looked romantic. Why did it look romantic? It was hardly even past the point of an impersonal touch. God, he was probably thinking about this too much.

“Oh…right.” Tweek pressed his eyes together hard, then left the bed to follow them out the room, leaving the tiny space behind them. The cards were still scattered on the floor, but nobody mentioned it. Hopefully the staff wouldn’t care either.

True to his word, Butters didn’t have much money left, and apparently neither did Craig (which made Stan just a little nervous, considering they hadn’t been here for as long as Kyle), but between them they were still able to split the cost of a room with two beds. The fact that there were five of them still lingered on Stan’s mind, aware that he’d likely end up sharing with someone. God, he couldn’t decide who would be worst anymore.

“She didn’t think it was weird at all, huh!” Butters said cheerfully as they walked down the corridor. “Back when it was just the three of us, we used to get a lot of weird looks. I guess it’s a lot easier to make them think it’s a secret orgy with a girl here.”

“…I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Wendy said flatly, clicking the door open. Stan walked through into what was basically a clone of the other room, but bigger and with the two double beds.

“I hope this room has a packa cards too,” Butters said, scooting around the beds to open the drawers in the corner, and Stan just raised an eyebrow.

“Looks like it _does_ have an en-suite,” Wendy said, glancing at the door in the corner. “And if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking that shower first.”

“I don’t care,” Craig said, already making a move to claim one of the beds. Stan frowned. Asshole.

“Ngh, go for it.” Tweek’s eyes flickered between Craig and the rest of the room, jittering as if unsure where to put himself. Stan sighed and placed himself over by the wall again, figuring there was no point rushing for a bed if they were going to be sharing anyway. Wendy just shrugged and headed for the bathroom, the door shutting lightly behind her.

“You wanna play cards, Stan?” Butters asked from across the room, and Stan shook his head, letting his head fall down against his own shoulder. “Alright, but you’re missing out!”

“Yeah,” Stan said, wondering if he could just fall asleep there on the floor instead. It’d probably be easier.

He let himself sit there for a few minutes listening to the gentle fwap of cards being placed, and the murmurs of Tweek and Craig on topics that weren’t interesting or easy to follow. Only when the sound of their voices stopped did Stan pull himself up, daring a look at Craig. As he’d thought, Tweek was asleep again. Seeing it for a second time wasn’t any less impressive.

When Stan glanced over, Craig was watching him with a steely gaze, and Stan quickly looked away, knowing there probably wasn’t any point trying to be subtle.

“Can I ask you something?”

Craig’s eyes moved towards Tweek, then met back with Stan’s again. “I guess.”

“Why…” Stan pressed his lips together, almost annoyed at his inability to phrase anything delicately before he realised he was talking to one of the few people who was worse at it than him. “Why’d you kiss Tweek at the party?”

Craig raised an eyebrow. “Why’d you think, idiot.”

“…Are you gay?”

A long paused stretched out, so long that Stan found himself focusing back on the shifting of the cards, acutely aware that Butters was still there. Aware that Tweek could wake up at any moment, and Wendy could exit the bathroom. The discomfort of the silence made him shift slightly.

“It’s- fine if you are,” he fumbled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…in a bad way.”

“Why are you asking anyway?” Craig asked.

“I don’t know. Just- wanted to know.”

“Did you start all this?”

“What?”

“Like, was it you.” Craig shrugged one shoulder, the one furthest away from Tweek. “I guess, probably, since you like to start shit to get into other people’s business.”

Stan narrowed his eyes. “Uh, no. What the fuck, dude. You don’t gotta get pissy with me. It was Wendy, anyway.”

“Yeah, I can believe that too.”

“Don’t be an asshole, Craig,” Stan muttered. “God.”

“It’s Kyle, right?” Craig asked then, and Stan stared at him.

“What?”

In that annoying way he’d done since they were kids, Craig didn’t reply again, just letting the silence sit until Stan felt forced to say something.

“If you mean- why I’m here, then yeah, duh. We’re- we were best friends.”

“Mmm.” A few more seconds passed. “What’re you gonna do if he doesn’t wanna talk to you?”

“…What?”

“Just asking.”

“Why wouldn’t he…I mean- did he seem angry?” Stan swallowed. “Was he angry at me?”

“No.”

“Oh.” The answer was so quick and simple that Stan wasn’t sure what to even say. That was good, right? Unexpected, but good. Kind of…confusing. “…I dunno, dude. I’ll just- try.”

“You have this look in your eyes,” Craig said, still looking at him with that unfazed expression, as if talking about a grocery list. “It’s like when you reach for the leash but you haven’t said walkies yet.”

“…Are you comparing me to a dog?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, uh. One. Fuck you.” Stan pulled a face. “And two, I don’t look like that.”

“You do. You’re waiting. You’re hoping. And if you don’t get what you want, you’re gonna piss on the floor.”

“Dude, what the fuck.” He scowled, tempted to end the conversation there. Talking to Craig was even more irritating than he’d remembered.

“I think you should try,” Craig said then, and Stan hesitated.

“Try…?”

“Asking him.” Craig shrugged his shoulder again. “Telling him. It might work out.”

“How would you know that…” Stan trailed off, eyeing Craig carefully. “Did he tell you something?”

“No.” Craig looked back down at Tweek, and Stan followed his stare, watching the peace of Tweek’s face that he’d never seen before. “But I think it’s better to just ask than spend the rest of your life waiting for someone to tell you it’s walk time.”

“Dogs can’t speak though.”

“Better decide if that’s what you wanna be then,” Craig said, leaning back slightly and closing his eyes. Stan scrunched his mouth to the side. If Craig thought he was going to let him end the conversation on that note, he was sorely wrong.

“You know, people have spread rumours about you and Tweek for ages.”

“I know.”

The urge to say something snide or teasing was heavy on the tip of his tongue, but when Stan stared for a moment longer, he realised there was really no point. With a sigh, he looked away again.

“…You seem nice together.”

“I keep noticing you staring. What, are you self-inserting?”

“No-“

“Because just so you know, I’m way better looking than you. And Tweek is cuter than Kyle.”

“Dude, fuck you.”

Deciding that that was the best finishing point he was going to get, Stan leaned back, staring up at the ceiling light with a dull pain in his eyes. It was kind of the same thing he’d done a couple weeks back, except now he was in a hotel in the middle of a random town, with a bunch of people from his class, two of which had been presumed dead prior to today.

…It really was weird how things turned out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaa i'm getting nervous ;w;;;;;  
> im wondering if i should add how many chapters are left >>;;; or maybe it's better not to know haha;;;


	24. 12th april, tuesday

**april 12th, tuesday**

If a meteor was to hit their town and turn the whole thing into rubble and fire, Craig really didn’t think he’d mind.

If he lived, he figured it would be pretty easy to pull himself out of the blackened building remains and find the way out the crater, leaving everything behind and walking far away, until he ran out of stuff to walk to. And nobody would realise that the little town in the mountains had been wiped out, only the blackened edges of the pine trees a sign of anything ever having been amiss.

In other words, Craig really wasn’t feeling going to his detention today.

He was sure it wasn’t just him that thought it was kind of bullshit. When he’d handed the slip to his mom the night before on the way to the kitchen, she’d frowned, then commented on how she thought he was doing better. Craig thought so too. Most of his homework had been handed in, even if a little late, and he’d even turned up for the Science quiz yesterday. But apparently none of that mattered when ‘disorderly conduct in class’ was considered.

His phone buzzed a few more times, and Craig glanced at the notifications at the top of his screen without clicking them. Just the typical end-of-day texts from the other guys, asking about who was going where and if anyone had the notes someone had missed and how boring the class had been. At least they got to go home.

He leaned back further against the wall beside the door, ready to bolt if five minutes passed and no teacher showed up. A few other kids were lingering too, and Craig recognised some more than others. Kenny was stood up beside some girl with a ponytail he’d never cared about enough to learn the name of, chatting behind his hood, and Craig’s eyebrow twitched. Hopefully he’d keep to the other side of the room and not speak to him. Shit luck to have ended up there on a day with one of _those_ guys.

Not too far from him, waiting at the other side of the room, was someone Craig was annoyed by equally as much, if not more. Kyle Brof-whatever. His last name was too long, and Craig had never bothered to learn it. He was just leaning against the wall with his head down, eyes on his phone, and Craig wondered why he was even there. Sure Kenny was there, but he was paying him no mind, and he wouldn’t have come to accompany Cartman if he was due to show up, because who the fuck would. And Stan hadn’t been at school for like the past two days. Craig didn’t even know if they were still friends.

He kept a steady side-eye on the guy, waiting for him to leave, though he never did. When the teacher came and unlocked the room, herding them inside, Kyle followed after. Craig kept staring, even as they sat down. Well, that was- weird. Not that he really cared that much, but still. Maybe the smart kid was finally starting to drop off the rails. Or maybe he was here for some dumb reason that was going to disrupt Craig’s plan of sleeping the next sixty minutes off. He was really hoping for that meteor if that was gonna be the case.

It took about twenty minutes for the teacher to give up and leave the room, the sound of the door shutting making Craig raise his head slightly. If he hurried, maybe he could just leave. Though, the teacher would probably just get pissed, and ask him to come back tomorrow…

Actually, whilst he was here and had the chance, there was one thing he kind of wanted to know.

“Why are you here?” Craig asked, turning his head slightly to look at Kyle. He jumped as if he hadn’t thought anyone would talk to him, like he was totally blending in at a detention by actually doing the work set.

“Why are _you_ here?” Kyle asked, voice low despite the fact there was no reason to be quiet. Craig stared back at him.

“You’re the newcomer here, not me.”

“I’ve gotten detention before,” Kyle huffed, hunching his shoulders slightly.

“Not without a whole bunch of drama and your whole gang following you.”

“We’re not…really a gang anymore,” Kyle muttered.

“So then why are you here.”

“Homework,” he said quietly, looking away as if that was actually a big deal.

“Jesus, that’s lame.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t realise it was some sort of competition,” Kyle spat, narrowing his eyes. “What about you?”

“Some bitch sent me a note in class so I flipped her off.”

“What’d it say?”

“I don’t care,” Craig said, then added, “Girls are assholes.”

Kyle was quiet for a moment, and Craig was glad for it, considering he didn’t really want to talk to him anymore anyway. Just as he was about to put his head back down onto his arms, Kyle spoke up again.

“I really don’t think I can keep this up,” he said, sighing as he stared down at his paper. Craig watched for a few seconds, then raised his eyebrow slightly.

“It’s just homework.”

“Not this,” he groaned. “Everything.”

“…Me too.” It wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting to give, but at least it was an honest one. As much as he wanted to say ‘why the fuck are you talking to me I literally do not give a single shit about your crises’, it was too hard to resist joining in a bitch session about life. “I hate this place.”

“Yeah,” Kyle said heavily. “It’s just- way too much. God.”

“I’m gonna run away at some point,” Craig said, putting his head back down but keep his eyes open. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“What?” Kyle shot him an annoying look that just dripped superiority. “That’s insane. You’ll die in like, two days.”

“No, because unlike you guys, I don’t go around looking for unnecessary drama.”

“Like running away isn’t dramatic,” Kyle scoffed, then frowned. “I thought you had it good anyway? I always see you hanging out with your friends, and people think you’re pretty cool even though you don’t do anything.”

“Yeah, well. Everyone thinks that you’re a straight-A student.”

It was the strike needed to wipe off the smug aura that surrounded him, and Kyle glanced down again, though apparently even that wasn’t enough to stop him talking. “Can I come with?”

What. “No.”

“Come on, do you even have a plan?” Fuck, and there it was, the sneery attitude back again. Well that didn’t last long. Jesus, Craig had no idea how anyone hung out with this guy for longer than five minutes. No wonder all his friends had fucked off. Even Stan, who used to have like, symbiosis with the guy.

“Yes,” Craig said, then paused. “What kind of plan do I even need? It’s not hard.”

“Oh please. Take it from someone who’s ended up stranded in at least like, four different cities. Being by yourself in the middle of nowhere is _not_ easy.”

“That’s just because you guys are idiots,” Craig said, annoyed by the hint of uncertainty in his own voice. “I don’t need someone else to help me anyway.”

“Yeah, well,” Kyle said, pen back on his paper. “I knew you weren’t serious.”

“I am serious.”

“Then what’re you gonna eat?” Kyle’s head snapped to look at him. “You have food, or are you gonna buy it? ‘Cause that’ll add up quickly. And what time would you go? People would see, and you’d get dragged back here in seconds. What’s your cover story? Where are you gonna go? How are you gonna get there?”

Craig stared. “You seem like you’ve thought about this before.”

“…It’s just a dumb fantasy,” Kyle said, eyes down again.

“You’ve had experience with it though, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Craig studied Kyle’s face, the silence of the room seeping in. “Are _you_ serious?”

Kyle stared back at him, and had just opened his mouth to reply when there was a crash at the back of the room, and the two of them turned around to see Kenny sprawled out on the floor with his chair tipped over, blood pooling from the back of his head after it had apparently collided with the desk behind him. Kyle twitched like he wanted to say something, and Craig just rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know if I’m serious,” Kyle said, after turning back around. “It’s a crazy idea.”

“Better than staying here,” Craig mumbled, closing his eyes as he rested against the desk. The room fell back into silence, though Craig was sure he could feel Kyle’s irritating expression from across the room, making the quiet just a little less comfortable. It hardly mattered though, since the sound of the door opening came a few seconds later, the teacher walking back into the room.

Craig kept his eyes shut. Time to sleep the rest of this off.

-

Normally messy places made Craig feel agitated, but the itch that compelled him to start tidying didn’t hit quite as hard in Tweek’s room. It was cluttered, sure, but it didn’t feel wrong or distracting. Kind of like everything had its place, and it was there for a reason. Craig didn’t always get it, but he didn’t always get Tweek either, so it was all about the same.

He sat with his back against the wall, legs dangling off the bed, scrolling through pages he wasn’t really reading. Maybe Twitter was just kind of lame tonight, or maybe he just didn’t have the energy to concentrate all that much. Even though he’d basically napped through detention…or, most of it…

“Can you check the last line?” Tweek pushed his laptop over to him as he joined him on the bed, a stack of papers still scattered by his desk. Craig took it from him and balanced it on his knees, skimming through the paragraph. “It might be kind of too wordy, or maybe it just doesn’t even make sense at all…”

“It’s fine,” Craig said, moving it off his legs. Tweek placed the laptop against his bed, and Craig wondered how the fans hadn’t given in yet. “It’s not like I’d have any idea anyway.”

“No way, man. You’re way better at making stuff concise than me.” Tweek still seemed unsure, scrolling up and down the essay at a speed way too fast for him to be able to read. Or at least, too fast for any average person to read. Tweek had the brain of a hummingbird. “Did you finish yours yet?”

“I started it.”

“It’s due tomorrow,” Tweek said, frowning up from the screen.

“Last period.”

“Let’s work on it tonight,” Tweek said, as if it wasn’t already past nine.

“Sure,” Craig said, slumping back further against the wall and staring at the dimmed screen of his phone. It was nice that Tweek cared enough about him to help him with assignments, but Craig didn’t really care enough about school to appreciate it as much as he figured he probably should. Kind of a wasted effort, really.

“Did something happen, ngh?” Tweek asked, shifting on the bed to move slightly closer to him. “You seem kind of…”

“Nothing happened,” Craig said, leaving a slight pause in the air. “But maybe we shouldn’t walk home together tomorrow.”

“Ghh, what??” Tweek’s eyebrows twitched as he stared at him. “Why? Is it the same reason you didn’t today either?”

Craig shrugged, looking off to the side. “Some of the girls were saying shit.”

“Saying what?”

“…Doesn’t matter.” Craig turned his gaze back towards the laptop, and tried to decide if he’d rather do his homework or talk about personal shit. Fuck, they were both awful choices. Maybe he’d just keep doing nothing.

“You know, I don’t think people would care, ngh,” Tweek muttered after a moment, and Craig could only stand to look at his sad expression for a second. “If you, ngh. Told them.”

Craig kept quiet.

“ _I’m_ fine with it,” Tweek said.

“I know you are.” Craig pulled the laptop up towards him, opening a blank file. It was always weird to him how Tweek could freak out about literally anything, but during all the time they’d spent together he’d never once panicked or doubted himself. Not during the entire period of them incidentally spending more time together, or sitting closer each time they met, and not even when Craig had dared to let his head rest on Tweek’s shoulder in a moment of silence. He definitely got it, but he didn’t talk about it, and Craig was kind of thankful for that. If they never talked, he never had to deal with it. And that was easiest.

Tweek sighed, moving to sit too close to him, fingers twitching at the side of the keyboard. It felt nice, but Craig could tell it was a good moment that couldn’t lead to a good ending. Just a suspended moment, like everything else. Bound to come crashing down at any moment, ready to turn their town to dust.

Nothing was ever as simple as it should’ve been.

-

Craig was less than happy to see Tricia still sat on the sofa when he got home, and only partly because she was a pain in the ass to deal with. If she was still awake, then it meant their parents were too. And based on the way she glanced up at him from her phone, he knew his disappearance hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Mom and Dad are pissed with you,” she said after a second, eyes moving back down. Craig glanced behind, trying to see if they were still in the kitchen.

“What did you tell them?”

“They’re upstairs,” she said, then gave him a hard and much too knowing look. It was just the perfect amount of judgmental to be annoying. “And nothing. I’m not making up lies for you. That’s _your_ job.”

Craig narrowed his eyes and flipped her off, and Tricia hardly had to move her hand from her phone to raise her middle finger. He was half hoping he’d be able to sneak to his room without being seen, and just tell his parents he’d been there the entire time and they couldn’t be all that smart if they hadn’t even noticed, but as soon as he got to the top of the stairs his dad was already stood outside his door. Fuck.

“Craig,” his dad called out, and Craig kept walking, making an effort to shut the door behind him as he got to his room, though it was pulled open again before he could even get to his bed. “Where’ve you been?”

With as much apathy as he could muster, Craig fell onto his bed, taking his phone out. “Out.”

“Where?”

“Not far.”

“It’s late. I thought I told you to be home before ten.”

“You did.”

A stretch of silence passed, and Craig kept his gaze firmly on his home screen, tracing the square app boxes with his eyes.

“…You been at that guy’s house again?” his father finally asked, and Craig shut his eyes.

“No.”

“I keep telling you he’s a bad influence on you,” he continued, and Craig didn’t need to look to see his disapproving expression. “And the kids are spreading rumours about you, I hear ‘em even at work from the other guys. You really want to be associated with- with, well, such a freaky kid?”

 _Yes_ , Craig thought, clenching his teeth into his cheeks.

“I’m serious about this, Craig,” his father said, then sighed out hard. “Don’t throw your life away over this.”

Maybe because it was already late or maybe just because Craig couldn’t be bothered fighting back as much today, but his father left after that, leaving him alone in the empty blue of his room. Everything was in its place, just like it had been five years ago. And ten years ago. He hadn’t changed it much, though he wasn’t sure exactly why.

Craig kept staring at his home screen, mulling over his dad’s words. Honestly, he’d rather throw his life away than always be told what to do. Rather do that than have to pretend all the time that everything was different to how it actually was. Pretending was- so fucking bad. God, he hated it. Hated pretending so much. All that effort to maintain a useless life.

It felt unfair. It felt draining. If he couldn’t have a meteor wipe the whole thing out, maybe he could just leave it behind and live as he wanted. Let his friends be good and successful and whatever else, and he could just walk away to be the nothing he was.

That was probably easiest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man!!!!!!!!!


	25. 5th may, thursday (first half)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!!

**may 5th, thursday (first half)**

Waking up with Butters’ arm half-draped over his face wasn’t the worst way Stan had woken up, but it definitely wasn’t the best. Squinting with one eye, Stan brushed Butters’ arm away from him, watching it fall back down limply against the bed. Despite the chilly temperature of the room, it was too hot under the sheets, and Stan threw the covers back, swinging his legs over the side.

“Morning,” Wendy greeted from the other side of Butters, sat on top of the covers with a schoolbook balanced on her lap.

“Dude. You really brought homework with you?”

“I still intend on graduating,” Wendy said, not looking up as her pen continued to move. “And I need to be ready for when we go back.”

“When’s that even gonna be?” Stan asked, glancing around the room with still-blurry vision. Craig and Butters seemed to be the only ones still asleep, with Tweek on the other bed, phone in hand.

“I guess when we find everyone?” Wendy said, then added, “Everyone meaning Kyle.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Do you think you’re gonna have a big argument like Tweek and Craig did?” Wendy asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m not going to lie, it was pretty juicy.”

“Dude, me and Kyle aren’t like that.” Stan threw a glance to Tweek and Craig over on the bed. “We’re not lovey-dovey. We’re- just friends.”

“Lovely-dovey best friends?” Wendy teased, and Stan just pulled a face, looking away. “Well, we might even be able to go back today, if our luck keeps up.”

Stan didn’t reply to that, grabbing one of the plastic bags from yesterday and pulling out a chocolate bar. Not the best breakfast, but considering his choice before had been a swig of alcohol, he was definitely making progress.

It didn’t take him long to get ready, with Craig and Butters still asleep when he came out of the bathroom, still chilled from the sporadically cold water of the shower. He watched Wendy and Tweek for a moment, before he gathered the courage to speak.

“I’m going out,” he said, and the two of them glanced up at him.

“Okay,” was all Wendy said, smiling just a little. “Good luck.”

“Yeah, man,” Tweek added, nodding his way with a movement that was slightly less jerky than before. Stan nodded in return, before leaving the room.

Somehow the echo of the door’s click behind him made the corridor feel overwhelmingly empty, and Stan was almost tempted to go back in there and beg one of the others to come with him. All of a sudden, the scuffs on the carpet and the cracks on the wall felt too real, as if he’d just stepped out of playing some make-believe game.

But…it had been real all along, and soon it would be over. And everyone else had done their part, so…it was up to him to do this. Stan took a deep breath, staring down at himself one last time, before making his way out the hotel.

Walking around so much the day before had made Stan slightly more accustomed to the streets, though he didn’t really have a certain route planned out. The streets were more crowded than they had been last night, filled with people with forgettable faces, walking alone or in groups. A few of the shops were still shut, and Stan eyed the windows of the ones that were lit-up, wondering if a familiar figure would be stood inside.

Somehow though, he knew that he wasn’t going to find anyone out here. Not- here, at least. The answer was obvious, and it tugged at his head no matter how much he tried to ignore it. If he wanted to find Kyle, it had to be that place. It didn’t make sense otherwise.

Stan stopped at the corner of the street, then turned around, staring at the pale haze of the sky.

It was time to go hiking.

-

Coming from a town that was covered in ice and snow for the majority of the year wasn’t always the best, but it meant that at least his sneakers could deal with walking on awkward and slippery surfaces. That was a bonus at least when Stan realised the path itself was pretty steep, full of rocks and soft mud. At least the sign at the front said it should only take twenty minutes. His shoes could handle a beating, but they still weren’t actual walking shoes.

It was pretty though, and Stan was kind of glad to have a moment to look at something nice whilst still having enough distraction to not let his mind fully slip. The town itself looked so different from South Park, but up here, the trees and the mountains all looked the same. If he let his thoughts drift just a little, he could almost pretend he was climbing a path somewhere back home. The others behind him, scrambling to catch up. Cartman lagging behind, Kenny laughing then falling, Kyle probably going on about why hills like this formed that way. Cold air cooling on his cheeks, and nothing worth worrying about that wouldn’t be gone within twenty-four hours.

Only one other person passed him on the way up – an old woman travelling back down the other way – and Stan didn’t let himself stop, anxious adrenaline fuelling his legs to keep going. By the time he reached the river peak, he was just a little out of breath, and paused for a moment outside the clearing of trees.

It hadn’t been that hard of a walk, but- would someone really choose to come up here every day? Would Kyle? Maybe he’d come up here once, or twice, but…it felt like too much of a coincidence that they’d just suddenly meet here. Sure they’d grown up together and knew each other better than anything, but they didn’t have some weird telepathic link to organise a meeting in the same place. Not quite.

Well, maybe it was hopeless, but at least he could enjoy the view.

Back when they were kids, Kyle had never really described in depth what the lake actually looked like, and Stan honestly kind of found it amazing they’d managed to find it just based off his vague descriptions. A lake, and some waterfalls at the top of a mountain. No different to any other place in Colorado, honestly. That was how he’d talked about it as a kid, but now that Stan was seeing it, he could see why exactly Kyle had been excited about it.

The two waterfalls were definitely higher than anything to be found in South Park, and the water a lot clearer. It was almost the same shade as the sky, which was something Stan was sure he’d never seen in a lake before. But as scenic as it was, something about it almost made him feel kind of sad. Kind of lonely.

Maybe it was the fact there was nobody else there.

Stan stood still for a moment, just listening to the rushing of the water, and the rustle of birds up in the trees. Even though he’d been expecting it, it was still…disappointing. But, yeah. Made sense. It wasn’t like Kyle was just going to be there in the rays of sun parting through the trees, eyes as the clear as the water. That wasn’t…realistic.

With slow footsteps, the beating of his heart steadying, Stan moved over to one of the benches at the side, sitting down heavily. He watched for a moment longer, before letting his head drop down. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was like- the sign. All the way to the final destination, and it was empty.

If he left now, he could probably meet back with the others and avoid all the hassle of the hotel room. They could set off back to South Park and be back at school tomorrow.

Stan didn’t move. It was almost like he couldn’t, body exhausted in a way he’d never really felt before. It was just- unfair. So unfair. Why did everyone else find what they’d been looking for? If it was just him going back alone…even if it _was_ his own fault…

Knowing how much time had passed without a phone was hard, but Stan heard at least a few other people walk up, the footsteps and chatting feeling muffled to his ears. The water kept on flowing, to the point it was all almost white noise to him. He knew he should go back, and that there was no way he could stay here all day, he’d need to eat lunch, or at least something, and it would get too dark to see the path if he went back too late…

“Stan?”

A cold wave rushed over his body, and Stan felt frozen, unable to move. Everything seemed to stop around him, and he was suddenly too scared to look up. Scared because if he was imagining it- or not imagining it- and if he looked up-

Stan swallowed, and moved his head. And-

There he was.

Staring down at him with a concerned frown that made Stan feel like his heart was about to break in two. Kyle.

Stan could look for all of three seconds, before the tears grew dangerously large in his vision, and he pressed his eyes shut as hard as he could. No way, no way was he going to cry. No way, no way. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be real.

When he was mostly sure he could look without falling apart, Stan reopened his eyes, almost expecting the figure in front of him to be gone, the world back to its emptiness. But Kyle was still there in front of him, face uncertain and confused. Well, Stan wasn’t sure he could really blame him.

“Uh- h-hey, dude,” Stan tried, swallowing again past the lump in his throat. He felt like he hadn’t spoken in years. “…Did you- get my text?”

“I- no, I haven’t- had my phone on. I-…“ Kyle stopped and glanced over him, still frowning. “Did something happen? Why are you here?”

“Uh. I…” Fuck, he couldn’t even remember how to speak. The waterfall crashed on in the background, and Stan wondered whether in that moment he was eighteen or eight.

Kyle stared with those sharp eyes for a couple seconds more, before he moved over to the side of him, sitting down. The weight of him on the bench was enough to tell Stan he wasn’t just a ghost or shadow, but it was still hard to process. “Stan. What’s going on?”

“…You went missing,” he managed, voice hardly above a murmur, and he pressed his eyes shut again as his emotions teetered on the edge. The phrase hung between them for a long moment, and a bird chirped in the distance.

“…Yeah,” Kyle said eventually. When Stan glanced over at him, the confusion in his eyes had vanished, replaced with something sad and desolate that made him want to cry even more. “How…did you get here?”

“Uh, I. Had some help.”

“Help?”

“Me and- well, me and Wendy, but then Tweek too, and now- everyone, I guess.”

“Craig and Butters too?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Recognition glinted in Kyle’s eyes, but Stan couldn’t tell whether it was a bad or a good expression. Maybe neither. “This still doesn’t make sense. How did you _know_ I was here?”

“It’s been like- a whole thing, dude.” Stan laughed, despite himself. “Oh god. Jesus, dude. We’ve been searching like- the entire time. The entire time, dude.”

“…You really didn’t need to be worried,” Kyle said quietly. He was staring at the water, but as far as Stan was concerned, nothing but them existed right now.

“I _was_ worried,” Stan said, then paused. “I’m still worried. I-“

He pressed a gloved hand over his eyes, as if it would hold back his tears for him. The more he spoke, the harder it got. There was no way he could do this.

“I didn’t think you’d remember this place,” Kyle carried on with the same low voice. “I haven’t mentioned it in years.”

“I mean, it took a bit of- soul-searching.” Stan shook his head, hand still over his face, then found himself laughing again. It sounded obviously hollow, and he didn’t know why he was doing it. Maybe if he didn’t, he’d start crying and never be able to stop.

The reply was slow again. “I don’t get why you’d go through all this.” Kyle glanced at him. “Is someone like- giving you a reward? Is it my mom?”

“No-“

“I thought you’d stopped caring about me a long time ago, is all.”

Instead of just hearing the waterfall, now Stan felt he was sat underneath the thing, doused in icy water with lungs devoid of air. “…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Kyle didn’t reply at all this time.

“I- didn’t mean to…” Stan trailed off, shivering. “I fucked up.”

Kyle pressed his lips together, looking down. It was scary how familiar he looked. “Well, I guess I understand why now. You saw it before even I did.”

“Saw what…?”

“How much of a mess I am,” Kyle said. “And you wanted to get away from that, right?”

“No- I wasn’t trying to- like- I wasn’t trying to distance you from me. It was the other way around. ‘Cause, I thought…I dunno.” Thought that it was for the best. Thought that Kyle would be better off.

“I get that now,” Kyle said, then sighed. “But- it really hurts. You get that, right?”

“I- yeah. I…”

“Because I didn’t know anything,” Kyle continued. “You left me totally in the dark.”

“I get it. It hurts.” Stan tried to think of something else to say, something emotionally coherent and mature, but it was so hard to find the words. Part of him was angry, and another part was confused. And sad. Because what Kyle had done was basically what Stan had done to him. It _had_ hurt. It had been scary. But something about just being sat there, with Kyle in an old jacket and jeans, no bruises or scratches or cuts or wounds- just, seeing him, totally _fine_ \- it was like he’d just been revived from the dead, and the relief made him choke when he tried to talk. “I thought something terrible had happened to you.”

And apparently that was enough to totally break whatever control he’d been holding onto, as the tears welled up big in his eyes, too fast for him to stop them. He pushed his hand against his face, feeling hopelessly lost for a moment, but he must’ve been unconsciously leaning because Kyle wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a hug and letting him cry. Stan wished he could just rip his other arm from his sling and return the hug fully, but one arm was the best he could manage.

It didn’t even hurt, having his injured arm pressed up against Kyle, trapped between the two of them. All Stan could focus on was the feeling of being whole again, gripping onto Kyle as if he was a part of his soul he’d lost and found again. He had no idea how he’d made it this far with the emptiness, but now it was finally finally over. He was where he was supposed to be.

But fuck, he really didn’t deserve it.

“It’s all my fault,” Stan sobbed, gasping. “Kyle, I’m so sorry.”

“Stan-“

“I’m sorry you were sad and I didn’t realise,” Stan carried on, gripping Kyle tighter, scared he’d disappear again. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when I should’ve. I’m- I-“

“Dude, me too.” Kyle’s voice shook, and that just made Stan cry harder. “Me too, fuck.”

“I’m so fucking stupid.”

“I’m the one who’s fucking stupid,” Kyle said, and Stan felt him swallow. “I fucked up everything.”

“No, it was my fault-“ Stan said, still shaking. “I’m- I just couldn’t- I felt like you were so much better and I was just- not. You left because of me, right?”

“Not- entirely,” Kyle said quietly. “It didn’t help.”

“I’m sorry,” Stan said again, eyes pressed shut as the tears still ran down. It was like something inside of him was tearing itself apart, like the two sides of himself were going to rip away in the most painful way possible.

“You didn’t even give me a warning,” Kyle said, and Stan reluctantly pulled back. As much as he wanted the comfort of Kyle’s shoulder for this conversation, he still wasn’t entirely sure he deserved it.

“I did,” Stan muttered. “I tried- to talk to you.”

“Well, in my defence, I did too,” Kyle said, staring at his lap, eyes shining like glass. “I wanted to talk to you but you weren’t there. And then you disappeared. Stopped going to school, stopped answering my texts, even got your _mom_ to send me away when I tried to come over-“

“Were you trying to get back at me?” Stan couldn’t help but ask, eyes welling up again. “I scared you, so you wanted to scare me?”

“No,” Kyle said. “I don’t know. I don’t think…I wasn’t trying to upset you. I really thought you didn’t care about me anymore. At least- not as much. What was I meant to think, dude? You were giving me all the signs.”

“I thought you’d be better without me,” Stan said, frowning down at himself, arm still tucked against his chest. “You had all this good stuff going on. I was just- getting worse. I didn’t wanna make us both unhappy.”

“You really think I’d be better without you?” Kyle asked, sending him a look that was almost offended. “After spending all our lives together you just thought- what, that you weren’t needed anymore?”

“…Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Well,” Kyle said, eyes trembling. “I hope this proves otherwise. You left me alone and I just- I don’t know. Freaked out. Ended up here.”

Stan was quiet for a moment, still too scared to look up. “…Why did you run away?”

“I don’t know,” Kyle said heavily. “It makes no sense. I’m just an idiot.”

“Can you tell me?” Stan asked, using his hand to wipe at his face, even if he was sure he had about a five second break before he’d start bawling again. Kyle’s eyes were still a bright green, wet around the edges. “Can you- tell me what you wanted to tell me at the party? You’re not really in danger, are you?”

“No, I’m not in danger, I’m just- ugh. I just- I don’t know.” Kyle blinked hard, eyebrows furrowed. “I had enough? It just…built up.”

“Is it ‘cause of the bad grades?” Stan asked, and Kyle flinched, looking wounded. “You can tell me if you want.”

“I couldn’t before,” Kyle countered, but the crack in his voice was enough to tell Stan it wasn’t coming from a place of true anger.

“You can now,” Stan said, almost reaching forward to take Kyle’s hand, before he decided better. “I’m here, dude. I promise. I’m listening.”

“I know,” Kyle said, tone vaguely apologetic. “I just- didn’t think you knew about that.”

“We looked in your locker,” Stan admitted. The frustration and desperation in those scribbles still hurt his heart to think about.

“Everyone?”

“Just me and Wendy.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Stan shifted on the bench. “Was it worrying you?”

“I- I mean…” Kyle pressed his lips together, gaze down. “It sounds stupid.”

“Say it, dude.”

“It just…it wasn’t just that stuff.” He paused again. “It was everything, dude. God. It was just everything. Like- worrying about school and my grades, but also like my future, and college, and if I could even get _into_ college, and- and thinking about you stopping talking to me, and then I was just- is _anyone_ gonna like me? Am I gonna be alone forever? Was I the problem all along? And I couldn’t…tell anyone, so. It just…built up.”

Kyle breathed out heavily, and Stan kept quiet.

“I really wanted to talk to you about it. But then I thought you were too busy with everyone else, and being sad all the time, but sad in that way I don’t _get_. And when we spoke at the party, it was just like- all that stuff came true. Not just you- but everything. Stan doesn’t wanna talk to me. I won’t graduate. I’m disappointing everyone. Everyone’s gonna realise I’m a fuck up.”

“You’re not a fuck up,” Stan mumbled.

“I’m _such_ a fuck up, dude,” Kyle said, laughing bitterly. “I almost feel like I get why you stopped talking to me now. Because when you feel so shit, it’s just- fucking _embarrassing_. I don’t want people to see me like that. You felt that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I really thought I was above all of it. Like, all the time. Even after I got here, I kept telling myself ‘I’m being mature, this isn’t running away. I have money. I have a plan’. But I was wrong. I came all this way ‘cause I thought it was gonna snap me back into place, but I’m just as confused as everyone else. I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I’m seriously starting to feel like nobody does.”

“But it feels like I’m _meant_ to,” Kyle groaned. “What am I meant to tell people? Tell my mom I’m too stupid for college?”

“You’re not stupid, dude,” Stan said, heart panging as he heard all his own sad thoughts come out of his best friend’s mouth. “You just…had shit going on.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Kyle muttered, shaking his head. “ _Everyone’s_ got shit going on. And they deal fine.”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah, but- I dunno. That’s you. My problems aren’t even that bad. Which just makes everything worse.”

“That’s how I feel all the time,” Stan muttered. “There’s nothing even wrong with me.”

“No.” Kyle frowned at him sadly, and it made Stan’s heart clench in a way that made him want to take it all back. “You have lots of reason to be sad, Stan. I know- I don’t understand them, but it makes sense to me why you’re sad.”

“But that’s how I feel about you.”

“That’s because you’re too nice,” Kyle said, then sighed. “Too empathetic. I bet you could be best friends with anyone.”

“I wouldn’t want to be,” Stan said, words rushing out as if there was a time limit to say them in. “And I’m not. I freaked everyone out when I started- you know. Giving up, I guess.”

“It was scary,” Kyle said, voice low to the point it was hard to hear over the water. “I felt helpless.”

“…You know, if you told me more about when you get sad, it wouldn’t be so embarrassing,” Stan said, eyes low. “For both of us. I wouldn’t feel like it was just me. Or that you’re just like, stringing me along because you feel obligated to. We’d be equals again.”

“We’ve always been equals, Stan.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like that.”

“So much that you had to ghost me for two weeks?” Kyle asked, but it was too soft to be angry. Just- hurt. Which was a lot worse, in a way.

“…Pretty much.” Stan kept his gaze low. “I really thought you’d be happier without me. I always…”

“…Are you mad at me?” Kyle asked then, shooting him a wary look. Stan was almost taken aback at the question since he was on the edge of asking it himself. He almost instinctively replied ‘no’, but then stopped.

“I think before, yeah,” Stan said, frowning. “I was thinking you might’ve died or something. It really fucked me up. I know you tried to tell me, but- dude, I dunno. I was mad.”

“You couldn’t really have thought it was that bad.”

“You smashed your window. There was _blood_ on it. How could I not have thought that, dude?”

“I-“ Kyle pressed his lips together, frowning. “…Okay. I get why you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad anymore,” Stan said, surprised at how easy it was to speak so honestly. “I was, but- not now.”

“Me too, I guess,” Kyle said. “I thought that the next time I’d see you, maybe after I came back, we’d just start screaming at each other again.”

“Yeah.” Stan thought back to Tweek and Craig. “Me too. But I’m happy we didn’t. I’m happy we’re talking.”

“I don’t even know what I was going to tell you at that party,” Kyle sighed. “I just wanted to talk. Talk like this, y’know?”

“Yeah, me too.” Stan felt the guilt squirm in his chest. “Sorry. I got too scared.”

“Dude.” Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Scared of me?”

“I guess.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I thought you hated me. I really wanted to show you I still cared, but I didn’t know how to do it right, so- I panicked. And- half of it was Clyde’s fault anyway.”

Kyle stared back at him. “ _Clyde_.”

“Yeah. Asshole spilt my drink on me.”

“I didn’t even notice.”

Stan groaned, leaning forwards slightly on the bench and pressing the back of his hand against his forehead. “Dude, please don’t tell me that. I thought it was the end of the fucking world.”

“I was more angry you were drunk,” Kyle said, frowning at him. “I feel like you were always drunk whenever I wanted to talk to you.”

“I probably was.”

“You’re not right now.”

“No.” Stan shook his head, almost proud he could say that without lying. “I dunno. It helps me feel better sometimes, but…I guess the past few weeks, I was too scared I’d miss something.”

“So you stopped?” Kyle stared at him.

“Uhh…I dunno about stopped. I cut back.”

“You should stop,” Kyle said pointedly, crossing his arms. It was a comforting type of scolding, similar to how things had been before. Another reminder that this was just his best friend, not a complete stranger.

“I’m trying.” Stan used his shoe to roll a pebble around, watching the ground. “…I’ll start trying.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re sober now.”

“Me too,” Stan said, hoping the honesty shone across in his voice. “Jesus. I wish we could’ve just spoken like this at the party. Then we would’ve just- not made mistakes.”

“Yeah. I was meaning to ask about that.” Kyle watched him for a moment, then glanced down at the sling. The thought of Kyle being able to guess exactly where it had come from sent a nauseating spike of panic through him, before it quickly morphed to guilt and regret. All along, the worst part of having it had been knowing that Kyle would see it and know what had happened. An argument, alcohol, and a sling. It _felt_ obvious, but Stan wasn’t sure. But maybe Kyle didn’t know exactly, because he asked the question easily. “Did you break your arm?”

“Uh, no.” He shifted again, fidgeting the fingers of his right arm awkwardly. The movement was stiff, but not painful. “It’s…just the elbow. That I hurt.”

“Let me guess, you were drunk,” Kyle said, rolling his eyes in a way that Stan knew wasn’t meant to be unkind, but- stung. Stung more than he’d been expecting, and he recoiled back slightly, eyes burning.

Even if Kyle knew, he still didn’t _know_. If he’d have seen him on Monday morning, he would’ve thought he was just overemotional, and stupid, and embarrassing. Said the same thing. ‘Bet you were drunk, bet you were being dumb’. And fuck. He wasn’t wrong.

“Dude?” Kyle peered over at him, and Stan pressed his eyes shut, feeling his hands tremble. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“No, yeah. You’re right. I was drunk and I was stupid.” Shit, he was going to cry again. “I was really stupid.” Opening his eyes but still not looking, he continued in a rush, “But it’s healing. It’s healing and- when I get back, I’m gonna go back to the doctors and they’re gonna check it again. It hardly even hurts. It’s fine now. It was just an accident. I was stupid.”

Too many seconds of silence passed. “…Okay.”

Stan listened to the water, the air suddenly feeling heavy and uncomfortable. Fuck, please don’t say he _knew_ -

“Was it at the party?” Kyle asked, voice quiet.

“…No.”

“Oh.”

“At the party though-“ Stan fumbled, half trying to change the topic and half trying to explain himself. “You upset me. When you…said that stuff.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was really pissed off. Like I said…”

“Yeah.”

“So-… after the party?”

“The same night you left,” Stan said, dropping his voice as if the trees and lake were all listening in on his shameful secret. “Maybe we’d have bumped into each other.”

“Maybe.” Kyle kept his eyes on the sling, and Stan shifted, heart beating hard. “You’re…sure it doesn’t hurt? It’s really healing?”

“Slowly, yeah. It’s- getting there.” Stan looked away before Kyle could pry anything out of him with just that steady look of concern. “I just- had a bad night.”

“Oh, Stan,” Kyle said sadly, and something in his expression made Stan feel both guilty and comforted. It was different to everyone else, different to the distant and confused stares, different to Wendy’s pity and his mom’s heartbroken distrust. It was understanding in a way that hurt. Like everything had been said without him having to say it, and he pressed his eyes shut hard.

“That party was just really fucked. I was pissed after. And- sad.”

“…I kind of wish you’d have yelled back at me,” Kyle said, finally looking away. “I know that sounds weird. I just wanted you to say shout and be like ‘God, Kyle, stop being dramatic. Stop doing all this dumb shit you’re doing. Get a fucking grip.’”

“You kind of caught me off guard. I was too busy paying attention to myself.” And the shitty music. “I promise next time you yell at me, I’ll tell you to get fucked, if you want.”

Kyle laughed, and Stan managed a smile, glad that the tension had faded again. Then, with a soft voice that Stan had only heard a number of times- “I don’t wanna ruin this by saying it too many times, but- I am sorry, dude. Really sorry.”

“Me- me too.”

“And that’s the last time we say that, okay?” Kyle asked, back to his usual strong tone. Stan stared.

“Okay?” He blinked, then inhaled sharply. “Wait, does that mean- we’re not fighting anymore…?”

“Until one of us finds something else to be angry about,” Kyle said, shrugging with a wry smile.

“I- don’t wanna stop talking again,” Stan hurried to say, even though he knew it was just a teasing remark. “I wanted to talk to you, even- even if it was my fault we weren’t before. I wanna keep talking to you like- forever. Seriously. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not meant to say it again, dude.”

“Shit- yeah. Okay. I promise I won’t cut you off again.”

“I’ll try not to run away again,” Kyle said, grinning just a little, eyes still gleaming.

“Take me with you next time,” Stan said without thinking, then froze. Shit, he hoped that wasn’t weird to say-

“Definitely,” Kyle said, nodding firmly. “You think I wanted Craig and Butters as company? Fuck no. I’d rather have had you. I’d rather have had the drunk, brooding, still-fighting version of you than any of those guys.”

Stan couldn’t hold back his grin, a burst of warmth in his chest. Part of him wanted to hug him again, but most of him was just happy to have Kyle there at all. Maybe it was only like sixteen days that they’d last seen each other, but the last time they’d smiled at each other, had a conversation that wasn’t a fight- that was _months_ ago. Maybe all the way back in October.

“I wanna stay here forever,” Stan said quietly, eyes moving back to the flow of the water. There was a couple over by the clearing to the path, taking selfies, but they weren’t paying them any mind. Even still, Stan felt like it was just them and the water, and nothing else. “It’s nice, dude.”

Kyle shook his head, letting out another breath of laughter. “It’s crazy. I don’t know why I got so caught up on it. It seems like such less of a big deal now, too. It’s just a waterfall.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “ _Two_ waterfalls, dude.”

“The entire time I was here as a kid, I was just like- ‘man, I wish Stan was here, if Stan was here we could do this together, that’d be awesome, I bet Stan would find that fun, I wanna see Stan, he’d think it was so cool’. My mom got pretty pissed with me ‘cause I was just talking about you all the time.”

“I do think it’s cool, dude,” Stan said, trying not to pay too much attention to the way those comments made him feel.

“It’s smaller than I remember,” Kyle said, a hint of wistfulness in his tone as he gazed at the waterfall, eyes following it down the rocks. Imagining himself coming here with Kyle as a kid was a pretty endearing thought, but Stan was sure that he preferred the present moment, honestly. This was better than a memory that didn’t exist. Even if his face still felt stiff with tears and his shoes were caked with mud.

Suddenly tired of sitting, Stan pulled himself up, rolling his shoulders slightly as he stood. It felt good to be standing after so long, and he glanced back to Kyle, who stood up beside him without further cue. Still silent, he walked over to the side of the water and gazed down, past the clear blue and to the rocks and weeds at the bottom.

Something about just standing there looking into the water with Kyle beside him was weird, in a surreal kind of way. Like the wavy reflections staring back from the lake weren’t real, and he’d look up to find that he’d been alone the entire time. But when Kyle crossed his arms, the figure in the reflection did too, fully whole and real. Side by side, but not kids anymore. Not the same as they used to be.

“Why’d you come back to this place specifically?” Stan asked, not looking away from their mirrored selves.

“I guess I wanted to go back to when things were easy,” Kyle said, and something in his voice reminded Stan of when he’d been sad about the past too. It was surprising to hear that similarity, somehow. Like he’d never assumed someone like Kyle could feel the same way. “When I didn’t feel like every mistake was going to come back and bite my ass.”

Stan didn’t reply, but mostly because he was sure he didn’t need to. Instead, he finally looked away from the hazy and sombre expressions in the lake and up to the waterfalls crashing down from above. The white spray of the stream kind of reminded Stan of the snow in South Park, somehow. Like it was always somewhere.

“When I was a kid, I always imagined that if you were here, we could go across to the other side,” Kyle carried on, following his stare. “My mom would never let me, since the only way to do it is to cross on the log and she was convinced that was certain death.”

“I bet if you’d have done it anyway, she wouldn’t have been able to stop you,” Stan said, eyeing the shallow log stretching from one side of the lake to the other. They both must’ve had the same image of the overweight figure of Kyle’s mom wobbling after a tiny Kyle, since they both snorted with laughter at the same time. “Have you really been coming here every day? The path’s kind of steep, dude.”

“Not every day,” Kyle said, eyes distant as he kept staring. “Every now and again, I guess. And I didn’t come straight here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, dude. It was just like- travelling around, for a bit. We’ve only been here like a week.”

“Guess it’s a good thing it took us so long to figure it out.”

“I’d have freaked the fuck out if I came up here and you were just sat there,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “I almost did today.”

“Is it weird between us?” Stan asked suddenly, shooting Kyle a nervous look. Probably a clumsy topic change, but he wasn’t great at them in the first place. “I…don’t want it to be weird.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Kyle said. “I’m still me. You’re still you.”

“We’re still best friends?”

“Obviously.” Kyle rolled his eyes in a way that told Stan he was speaking fully genuinely. “One fight doesn’t mean anything.”

“Well, it was more like three fights, and half a year of not talking, and a whole bunch of other stuff-“

“Not the point,” Kyle said, waving a hand at him. “If it’s not weird, it’s not weird. Unless it’s weird to you.”

“It’s not weird to me.”

“Good.” Kyle flashed a smile at him, and Stan felt almost as if their past arguments were melting away, dissolving in the water so that they weren’t even visible anymore. Fuck thinking about the past. There was too much bad stuff stored there. He liked now a lot better.

“Wanna go to the other side?”

Kyle gave him a look. “I do _not_ want to fall in that water, dude.”

“Yeah, me neither. But we probably won’t fall in.”

“’Probably’,” Kyle repeated, though the sarcasm wasn’t as strong as it probably should’ve been.

“It looks pretty stable,” Stan said. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Are you just saying you want to try because I said I do?” Kyle stared hard at him, and Stan pressed his lips together.

“No.”

“You are.”

“No! Look, we’ll both cross, and if one of us falls in, the other can help.”

“You’re more likely to fall than me,” Kyle pointed out, frowning, and Stan wasn’t entirely sure what he meant until he noticed the pointed look at his arm.

“I won’t,” Stan promised. “Not if you’re there.”

“You’re saying that, so you have to promise not to get pissed if you do actually fall.” Kyle meandered around to the top of the log, leaning down slightly, probably just to check it wasn’t secretly coated in ice that had long outlived its stay.

“Okay. But you have to make that promise too.”

“No fucking way, I’m telling you I’ll be pissed if I fall in.” Kyle held out his arm, and Stan stared. “Lock your forearm together with mine. It’ll give us better balance. Your other _is_ okay, right?”

“Yeah, it’s- fine.” He hesitated for just a moment before wrapping his arm around Kyle’s, flushing slightly as Kyle connected their hands without delay, as if that wasn’t strange at all.

“If you keep leaning the other way, we should keep balance.” Kyle stepped onto the log, glancing back at him. “Ready?”

“Okay.”

Walking with such a slippery foundation wasn’t easy, but Kyle’s grip around his arm was pretty strong, the two of them keeping a slow pace as they made it further away from the shore. Even though Stan couldn’t use his other arm to keep steady, he somehow didn’t feel off balance. Neither of them were slipping. Neither of them were falling.

The rush of the waterfall got louder and louder until it was right next to them, and Stan jumped off the log almost the same time as Kyle, stepping onto the soft mud of the bank. Stray beads of water hit his cheeks, and he took a step back.

“Dude, I can’t believe we actually made that,” Kyle said, eyes wide.

“Still gotta go back again.”

“I guess, but- we did it once, right?” Kyle said with a smile, and Stan nodded, returning the gesture. “It’s cool to finally see it from over here.”

“Yeah.” Stan stared across at the other side, to the bench they’d just been sat on, and the entrance to the clearing. Everything looked different from the changed perspective, like it was a new place entirely. Definitely cool. “Hey, dude. If you’d already come up here once, why’d you come again? Isn’t it…kind of just the same thing?”

“Well, yeah,” Kyle said, staring up at the overhead stream of the water. The light caught his face, and Stan couldn’t look away. “I guess I was just…trying to find something.”

“…Did you find it?”

Kyle looked at him, expression opaque. “I think so, yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so nervous about this lol!!!! i really hope it was worth the wait haha;;;;; i can't believe it took 80k to get this point...........  
> ofc kyle had to be okay!!! i couldn't do that to him (or stan lol)  
> i edited this chapter a lot!!! it was a little hard to write but i think i'm finally happy with it lol ;w;;  
> i hope you guys liked it!!!!! now to move into the final chapters ;o;


	26. 17th april, sunday (part two)

**april 17th, sunday (part two)**

“Kyle, are you sure about this?”

“It’s fine, Mom.” Kyle tried his best to fake a calm smile, leaning one of his legs back against the bottom step of the stairs. “It’s only a few days.”

“Still, it’s not really a family trip if you won’t be there…” his mom said, shaking her head with a worried glance down at her suitcase. She seemed to be the only one who actually cared, which didn’t really surprise him. His dad just looked like he wanted to get the car loaded, and Ike was staring at his phone, face straight and unfazed.

“We can always go again in the summer,” Kyle said, suddenly concerned his mom might change her mind at the last second. “I just really wanna spend some time studying, you know? We’re gonna be having all these tests when we go back.”

“Yes, yes.” His mom gave him a slight smile. “Well, I am very proud of your maturity, Kyle.”

“ _So_ mature,” Ike echoed, and Kyle bit his tongue to stop himself from retorting.

“I’d tell you not to throw any parties, but I don’t think you’re cool enough for that,” his father said with a thoughtful face, and Kyle just pressed his lips together.

“Okay, well, shouldn’t you guys be going?” he asked instead, which set his mother back into hurry mode, hoisting up the suitcase before he’d even finished the sentence. In just a few moments, his parents had left the house, leaving Ike trailing behind. He turned around in the doorway and grinned.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

And then the door shut, and he was left alone. Kyle held his breath for just a second, waiting to see if anyone flew back in to grab a missing item, or his mom to grab _him_ , but everything remained still. The car engine rumbled outside, and then grew further away. Silence.

Tension that he’d hardly been aware of left his shoulders, and Kyle sighed, closing his eyes. At least that part was over with. Getting his mom to leave without finding some way to drag him along with them was probably the hardest part of this whole thing. Or, at least in the top three.

Having the house all to himself felt weird, and it would almost be comforting if he didn’t know what was to come. Kyle turned around, staring out across the lounge. He felt like he should spring into action already, even though he still had the rest of the day to kill. It seemed wrong to just sit around and watch TV, and he’d honestly much rather die than try to study anymore. So instead of that, Kyle forced himself away from the stairs and over to the sofa, sitting down with a straight back. He still felt like he was being watched, somehow.

With a deep breath, Kyle pulled out the piece of paper that had been hidden away in his back pocket since he’d written (and rewritten) it on Wednesday. He swore that it was shorter every time he looked at it, lacking enough detail to save him from getting lost or murdered or whatever else.

Sometime before sunrise and after midnight, he was going to leave. Walk until the first rest point, just to make sure nobody would see him. Four stops on the first bus. Stay one night at the hotel that was all automated after 8pm. Wait, or was it 8:30? Kyle frowned, pulling out his phone again to double-check. God, he really didn’t feel ready.

In his defence, he’d done his best in the short time provided. Especially with the last-minute change in plans…Kyle had no idea how Kenny had even figured them out, but apparently he had, and now Butters was coming too. Just as long as nobody else joined in the meantime. Plotting an entire secret escape in five days was harder than it seemed. Though the fact that he’d been right and it _was_ 8pm made him feel just a little better. A little bit.

Kyle sighed, folding the paper back up and holding it in his palm. It wasn’t like he was nervous, it was just- weird. Doing something like this for real, after so long of thinking about it. Sitting here in the house he’d grown up in with no idea when he’d be back. Part of him was almost convinced he never would be, even if that was impossible. Well, unless he died, but…that wasn’t going to happen. Besides, if anyone was going to die, it would be Butters, not him.

Just as he was about to stand up and find something else to get caught up on, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and Kyle was almost embarrassed at how much it made him jump. Seeing Craig’s name lighting up the screen instead of his mom or the police or any other terrifying figure just made the anxiety shift into his annoyance, and he was already frowning as he answered the call.

“What are you doing?” Kyle asked sharply, not waiting for a greeting. “Don’t ring me. That’s suspicious. What if the police check your phone history?”

“I’ll have my phone with me,” Craig answered back flatly, no sign of urgency in his voice. Well, obviously.

“They might check before you leave. Then what’re you gonna say? It’s not like we’re best friends.”

“I dunno. I won’t let them check.”

“Don’t be dumb. If they ask you, you’ve gotta show them.”

“No I don’t,” Craig said, and Kyle didn’t get chance to keep fighting before he spoke up again. “Did your parents already leave?”

“Yes,” Kyle said, huffing as he stood up, trying to make it sound like he was in the middle of something. “I’m just getting ready now.”

“You’re still going to do this, right?”

“It was _my_ idea,” Kyle said, making his way up the stairs. “I’m not backing out. Are you?”

“No,” Craig said. “I bet Butters does.”

“If he does then it hardly changes anything.”

“That guy’s a blabbermouth,” Craig said, then paused for a second before he asked, “Did you tell Stan?”

Kyle halted at the top of the stairs, hand clenching around the phone. “No, I didn’t. And I’m not going to. Whatever he wants to do is his business, but I’m not getting involved.”

“I heard from someone that he ended up crying in the bathtub by 3am.”

“Of course he did,” Kyle muttered, able to picture it perfectly in his mind. Probably with the cold water on over his head, drenching his clothes, curled up and crying that nobody would ever love him and that everyone was an asshole. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Heard from who, anyway?”

“Just someone.”

“Kenny?”

“Kenny,” Craig confirmed, still sounding bored.

“Okay, well.” Kyle kept staring down the hall, unmoving. “I’m busy, and you shouldn’t have called anyway, so. I’m going.”

“Tell me if you change your mind.”

“I’m not going to!” Kyle snapped, pulling the phone away from him and hitting the end call symbol. The silence that followed after was unnerving, and Kyle furrowed his eyebrows, eyes still on his phone. He tried not to think about yesterday, or anything that had happened after he left, or anything about Stan. That was yesterday. It didn’t matter anymore.

Kyle closed his eyes, and tried to focus. Craig might’ve known he was bullshitting about being in the middle of getting ready, so maybe he should just go do it now to prove his suspicions wrong. Even though Craig had no way of really knowing, it still made Kyle feel a little more self-satisfied. God, Craig, what an idiot. He really hoped nobody would check their phone activity, considering he’d been looking up hotels and travel routes for the past five days. Hopefully South Park’s police were too stupid to try that.

Reopening his eyes with newfound motivation, Kyle headed to his room and went straight to his closet. He’d already planned out what bag he was going to take, and everything he wanted to put in it. Already stacked up all the money he had saved up. So this part should be easy. A good place to start.

He started tucking away shirts into the backpack, quickly growing annoyed at how each one made him think of a different memory. One he’d worn on the last day of school last year, when they’d stayed up all night. Another when Cartman had ‘accidentally’ spilt orange juice all over him and left a faint stain that was still there now. So many that he’d had since he was fifteen, when he’d stopped growing. It was like he’d hardly changed at all since then.

Packing his hat was surprisingly the hardest part, considering he went pretty everywhere with it, and always had done. But that was exactly _why_ he had to pack it. It’d be a dead giveaway. The hair was bad enough, though he already had a plan for that. Still, it was difficult pushing it down to the bottom of the bag, knowing he wouldn’t have his usual safety. Kind of like he was pushing a part of himself down there, zipped up and out of sight.

It felt too quiet again. Not that his house was usually loud, but- it just felt like the whole world had stopped, or something crazy like that. He almost wanted to get another phone call from Craig, or Butters, or just anyone. Someone to talk to so things didn’t feel so ominous.

Kyle eyed his phone, unwillingly thinking distantly of Stan for just a fleeting moment. It was stupid how even though they hadn’t spoken properly in so long, Kyle still had that near instinctual urge to call him whenever he wanted someone to talk to. Even after yelling into his face less than twelve hours ago. It was like his brain just couldn’t keep up or something. He was definitely not going to ring Stan. Not now, not later. No way.

-

It was harder to sleep in the day than Kyle had been expecting.

Part of the plan was to nap in the evening so that he wouldn’t be so tired later, but it really wasn’t working out the way he thought it would. And that just made him even more irritated, since he was already going off plan and he hadn’t even set out yet. Well, maybe the adrenaline would be enough to keep him alert.

Kyle sat up, eyeing the darkness that had settled outside his window. The day had gone by pretty slowly, but also incredibly quick. Even if he told himself that it was a preparation day, and everything was going to happen at night, he still had that familiar sinking feeling of having wasted a day. It was annoying, and he felt restless.

His bag was still sitting next to his bed, and he frowned at it on the way out of his room, convinced something had to be missing. He’d repack it after. First things first, he had to get rid of his hair.

Well, not _all_ of it. Going around with a shaven head was probably the best way to get unwanted attention, not to mention it would be freezing. Just- lessening it would be okay. Make himself less obvious. It was getting towards the time of year he’d cut it usually anyway, so. Not a big deal.

He’d been fairly young the first time he’d cut his hair, and his mom had been pissed at him when she saw. In his eyes, it hadn’t been that big a deal. Cartman had been teasing him despite his efforts to hide everything beneath his hat, and one day he’d eventually had enough and just snipped as much as he could off, getting clumps all over his floor and bed. Maybe his mom had been more mad about that. Well, he was wise enough now to know to cut it over the sink. And to do it a lot more evenly.

The others never really got why he cared so much. Probably because they didn’t have to deal with it, and weren’t always at the end of Cartman’s jabbing and taunting. Stan had never seen it as a big deal either. He’d just told Kyle that he liked his hair, but it had always been hard for Kyle to believe that. As far as he was concerned, it was better the shorter it was.

And he’d managed to get it decently short now. Not that he was totally unrecognisable, but- if he put his hood up, at least it was less likely he’d get spotted from a distance. Okay, so- that was okay. That was done. Only a few things left to do-

Or, just one, really. Fuck.

Kyle stared at his reflection for a few moments before turning away, annoyed by his expression. Back in his room, he was about to start pacing, before he noticed his bag, and made work taking everything out of it again. Checking it over again. Putting it back in. And out. And repacking it again, but slower, sure something had to be off. It couldn’t be this easy. It couldn’t be this straightforward. There was no way. This time last week, all he’d been thinking about was Math homework and how tired he’d be if he didn’t sleep soon. Not anything like this.

It still wasn’t too late to cancel everything. It wasn’t like they had anything booked, since he didn’t want to be traced online or anything like that. He could just tell Craig and Butters that it was called off, and deal with Craig thinking he was a pussy, and just disregard the whole thing as a stupid fantasy that had come about because of end-of-year stress. Finish the essays and reports that were due, and go back to school in a week’s time. Wake up at 7am, sit with Cartman and Kenny at lunch, not wonder where Stan had gone, try to pay attention through class and get all the questions wrong.

Actually, no. Fuck that. It was already too late to expect some kind of miracle change, and he was way too fed up to hang around waiting for that possibility anyway. If he couldn’t get to college, he’d be stuck in this town forever, watching everyone else move on past him. End up all bitter and jealous, like one of those adults he always saw and always hated.

Leaving his bag as it was, Kyle stood up again, pursing his lips together. It was dark outside, so he could probably leave whenever. Sooner than later was probably better? He couldn’t really imagine anyone being outside at 1am on a Sunday. So now he just had to kind of- fuck up his room. Make it look like he was long gone, and make people think he hadn’t just gone insane and run away.

Which, he hadn’t. Not _yet_ , at least.

Kyle glanced around his room for a few moments, everything uniform and neat. Things sat where they should be on his desk. A couple of textbooks with yellow sticky notes visible out the sides. Keyboard pulled straight in front of his computer. It was going to be really weird to mess it all up. Especially on purpose.

He’d got mad back when he was younger and thrown a bunch of stuff around, probably after an argument or a bad day at school or something he hardly even remembered now. It had been easy back then, and he couldn’t recall giving it this much thought. Kyle picked up his lamp, and raised it above his head. Then, he lowered it again.

Would it really look believable? Was this really going to _work_? The worst thing would be if the police saw his room and instantly identified it as a teenage meltdown. Fuck, the embarrassment would kill him. But how was he meant to mess up his room in a way that made it look like someone had been there? It just didn’t seem realistic. Didn’t seem doable.

Just as Kyle placed the lamp back down, thoughts swimming, he realised that his phone was buzzing against the bed. It clicked off the moment he picked it up, and he couldn’t tell whether he was disappointed or glad to have missed the call once he saw Stan’s name fade from the screen. Part of him expected it to light up again seconds later, but it stayed black. Kyle frowned.

Maybe it wasn’t _that_ weird, since they’d only spoken yesterday, but Stan hadn’t rung Kyle in a long time. And the few times he had in the past six months, he was normally pretty out of it, and entirely incoherent. But all of that seemed to hardly matter right now, with how desperate Kyle was just to speak to anybody and tell them what was happening, and how fucked up everything had gotten in the past few months. Vent until 5am, with Stan offering his short agreements and empathies that rarely sounded ingenuine. Get Stan to convince him not to go. Convince Stan to come with him.

His hand hovered above Stan’s name, but he moved to their messages instead of clicking the call back button. He’d been a little surprised the night before that Stan hadn’t texted him back any abuse after his outburst, and he found himself thinking about what Craig had said again. He wouldn’t remember it, he rarely did, but it still made Kyle a little sad to think about. Exasperated, yes, definitely, but sad too. As distant as they were he didn’t want to imagine his ex-best friend being so desperately upset.

The guilt in his stomach quickly soured when Kyle realised what the last set of texts actually were. It made him unnerved to look at them, which was why he rarely did. Like he was back to being angry all over again.

_WED  
3:37pm  
no fish: Have your teachers been going crazy this week too? I just got assigned three papers in one day  
no fish: Insane._

_3:54pm  
no fish: Are you still sick or are you gonna be at school tomorrow?_

_4:27pm  
no fish: I can come over if you want?_

_4:40pm  
no fish: What's going on? Your mom wouldn't let me in.  
no fish: Stan, did something happen?_

_7:03pm  
no fish: Let me know if you feel better, I guess.  
no fish: Kind of worried.  
no fish: I know I shouldn't be, but. You know I don't like it when you do this._

Kyle narrowed his eyes, wishing that he’d changed his name before the whole thing had started so he didn’t have to see it every time he looked back. It had been easy to ignore at the time, but looking back, it seemed absurd.

It was embarrassing too to see all his messages stacking up over the days. The occasional comment about school or Cartman during the first few uncertain days, and then the ‘what the fuck is going on?’s and the ‘let me know if you're okay’s that moved further and further apart from each other. He could still remember the burning feeling of going to Stan’s house, only to be turned away by his mother with no idea if his best friend was even there.

_SAT  
4:55pm  
no fish: Can I come over? Let me in this time._

_5:21pm  
no fish: Again? Dude, seriously?_

_SUN  
12:28pm  
no fish: It's really immature to ignore everything like this, Stan._

_MON  
8:53am  
no fish: Okay, I'm going to just let you wait this out, I guess.  
no fish: Just know that I'm mad at you._

_11:59am  
no fish: And worried._

_THURS  
11:34pm  
no fish: Okay, I give up. I don't know if I said or did something to make you mad at me, or if something happened, but please just drop it already. I'm actually scared now, Stan.  
no fish: If it's just Depression then okay, that's whatever, I know you don't like talking about it, but would it kill you to tell me if you’re like, physically okay? I feel like I'm going crazy.  
no fish: I know you can hear me coming over all the time. Just so you know, your mom looks like she's about to burst into tears all the time. Are you trying to become your dad or something?  
no fish: Think about what you're doing to people. Jesus._

And then finally, the last message sent between them, the one that had come through seconds before Kyle had stormed over to his house, absolutely destroyed.

_FRI_   
_10:12pm_   
_Tank king: You.Know what???? Fuck you you don’t gte it you never got it, JFC don’t give me shit stop making ir you its me cause I got all the is shit just go be friends with someone else fuck you_

They’d screamed at each other so much that Stan’s mom had actually had to intervene, eyes tired and voice wearied. That had happened maybe only twice before in their entire friendship, and neither of those times had Stan been drunk like he was that night. Kyle was angry about that too, because Sharon hadn’t even mentioned it, she’d just told them it was late and they were getting too loud and they should leave it for another day. He’d stormed out, and had all of sixty seconds to compose himself when he got back home and told his mother that Stan was fine but too tired to hang out tonight.

Stan had finally shown up again at school that Monday, but they hadn’t spoken. Avoided each other for the rest of the day. Rest of the week. It was easy when Stan hardly showed up anyway. It didn’t take long for months to pass.

Kyle stared at his phone for a moment longer, eyes burning, and he slammed the phone down against his bed before he could let himself get sent back into all those awful feelings. No, actually, he wasn’t going to call Stan. Because Stan didn’t give a single shit about him, and likely didn’t care about anybody besides himself. It would probably take him weeks to realise his so called ‘best friend’ wasn’t even in town anymore. That phone call was probably just him finally able to recall all the shit he’d wanted to yell the night before. Well, Kyle didn’t need to hear it. He’d already got Stan’s message pretty loud and clear all those months ago.

Sucking in a hard breath, Kyle stood up again, picking up the lamp. It was a lot easier now, thinking about Stan. Thinking about how much he didn’t want to talk, and thinking about how much had gone wrong. Not even knowing what he’d done in the first place to cause his best friend to totally withdraw from him. Drowning in all these essays and tests that he could just never seem to do good enough in. Just- not being good enough as a whole. Why? Why couldn’t he be good enough?

He’d almost forgotten that the lamp had been plugged in, and nearly jumped when the wire detached itself from the wall, causing the lamp to recoil slightly as it hit the ground. The bulb darkened, the cover bent on one side, and Kyle stared, almost stunned that he’d actually managed to throw the first thing. It seemed horribly off place in the neatness of his room, laying against the carpet in a way that brought all attention to it despite its broken light. Part of him was almost expecting his mom or dad to fly in and demand what the crashing sound was, and what was he thinking, was he deranged- but the house was still silent. Nobody was here, right.

It was easier now he’d started, though. The fact that he’d ever wanted to give up on this whole thing seemed near crazy now, the anger pumping through him as he realised fully just how fucking sick of everything he was. Tearing the sheets off the bed and ripping everything out of his wardrobe. Pushing his keyboard nearly off his desk, kicking the clothes and books that he’d tossed on the floor. It felt good. Like everything around him was finally reflecting how he felt.

He was bordering on breathless by the time his room was sufficiently wrecked, standing over by his desk with his hands on his chair. He must’ve spent longer on those texts than he’d realised, since apparently it was already near to three in the morning, and that was already good enough for a time to leave. So- a good time to finish the destruction of his room. The one thing to set everyone off his trail.

With the last of the adrenaline beating through his body, Kyle lifted up the chair and threw it as hard as he could at the window. It was both louder and quieter than he expected, and for a long few seconds he just stood and stared at the cracks in the glass, feeling the cold night air seep in through the gap. The chair laid on its side, dusted with the smaller shards, and Kyle frowned after a moment more of staring. It was…too small. Nobody was going to think anyone had broke in through that size of an opening. 

Some parts of the shards were still hanging on loosely, and Kyle pulled his sleeve over his hand as he stepped forward, tentatively pushing on the remaining ones to try and make them fall. One of the larger pieces broke off backwards, landing somewhere on his front lawn with a light sound. Kyle pulled a face, realising now that it might look weird if most of the glass ended up being outside his house. Wasn’t that something the police would look for? If they figured out which way it had been broken, it would kind of ruin the whole effect.

It was probably stupidly dangerous, but Kyle carefully slid his hand through the gap, reaching around to push from the other side. The angle was so clunky and awkward that he found himself hoping that nobody outside was seeing this, before he realised he should really be hoping that for other reasons than just looking like an idiot. It worked though, and a few more loose shards fell forwards onto the carpet with a much softer sound. It was… _almost_ big enough now to fit a person through. Maybe. If they kind of…contorted a little. Whatever, it was fine. He doubted people would care that much.

Only as he was retracting his hand back did one of the shards still attached to the frame finally manage to snag his hand, and Kyle hissed at the sharp pain, withdrawing it in quickly. Honestly, he was expecting that. It was stupid. He was stupid. When he pulled his sleeve down, there was a thin red line near his thumb, the blood pooling up quickly. Almost out of instinct, Kyle pressed his other sleeve against it to stop the bleeding, only to find it quickly soaking through.

“Fuck,” he hissed, moving his injured hand from his head to back down by his arm, then to the window sill and then back to his other hand again. It felt like nowhere he put it was right. It felt like nowhere he put _himself_ was right. “Fuck!”

Why did he feel like he was about to burst into tears? This was the plan. Even if he’d already fucked it up a few times. Fucked it up even further by cutting his hand. Jesus, he really couldn’t do anything right. Was that why he wanted to cry? God, he didn’t even know. He needed to get out of here.

Kyle turned swiftly, grabbing his bag from its place by the door and taking just a brief moment to survey the room. It looked like a complete fucking mess. Good.

The cut stung as he held it under the water, but it only bled for a couple minutes more, meaning he didn’t have to linger in the house for too much longer than he wanted. Who knew how long it would be before someone noticed the window. Maybe even Stan would’ve heard the smash, if he wasn’t too drunk or passed out to notice.

Kyle narrowed his eyes as he glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror. Who was he kidding. There was no way Stan would be in any state of mind to notice.

Annoyingly enough, the weird sadness didn’t fade as he made his way downstairs, or even as he slipped out the back door. It was even colder now than it had been in his room, and the icy temperature made the cut on his hand sting. He pressed his eyes shut, trying not to think about it. He’d spent the whole day thinking. Now it was time to just- go.

This was how it had to be. It was- the right thing to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact!!! in the original plan for this story, half of it was gonna be set in kyle's pov lol  
> i had to change it since it didn't really work, but it was fun getting to come back to his perspective ;v;


	27. 5th may, thursday (second half)

**may 5th, thursday (second half)**

Walking back through the town was strange in the sense that it was objectively the same place as before, but now felt totally different. The roads were the same, the glow of the streetlight, the shops and the quiet streets, but- it just wasn’t like it was yesterday. It wasn’t large and oppressive and full of faces Stan didn’t recognise. It was just normal. And this time, he wasn’t walking back alone.

It was silent between them, and Stan was kind of glad for it. After talking all day about so much, having a moment of nothing was nice. They’d talked about six months ago, they’d talked about the past two weeks, and they’d talked about right now too. Now it was just calm. Comfortable. Distantly he was aware that he could never have this kind of silence with Wendy, and it further drove in just how much he’d missed Kyle.

God. Things were finally how they were supposed to be. Though, to be honest, this was pretty much his only criteria. The whole world could be burning down and he wouldn’t really care if he had Kyle by his side.

…Maybe that was kind of sappy, but. Whatever.

A weird amount of nerves jumbled up inside of him as he walked through the dusty corridors of the hotel, glancing at the blue of the carpet as if it was going to swallow him up. He really hoped the others weren’t going to be awkward about it. It was only…kind of a big deal. Maybe less so after they’d found everyone else?

“You okay, dude?” Kyle asked, finally breaking their quiet, and Stan nodded as he stopped outside the door. He wondered if their voices carried through.

“Just- everyone’s in there.”

“Well, I last saw the other two pretty recently, so it’s not a big deal,” Kyle said with a shrug, looking so unbothered that Stan thought for a second he was just going to open the door for him and walk straight in. Luckily, he kept both hands by his side, giving Stan another breath to prepare himself, before he clicked open the door.

The makeup of the room hadn’t changed much, and Stan was almost surprised to see all four of them there, sprawled out across the room in various states of activity. Almost instantly, Stan’s eyes locked with Wendy, who was peering at him from over the top of her book, eyes wide.

“…Uh,” Stan said. “I’m back.”

Maybe sensing the looming tension, Kyle stepped to his side through the doorway. “Hey.”

“…Wow.” Craig was the first to speak up, moving his gaze away from them. “You two really are like magnets to each other.”

“Oh wow, you managed to find Kyle!” Butters said, sitting up from his place on the floor, beaming. “Gee, you really are good at findin’ people, huh.”

“I feel like it was more the other way around,” Stan muttered, shrugging a shoulder before moving to lean against the wall. There really wasn’t a lot of space to stand.

“Nice to see you again, Kyle,” Wendy said, voice sounding polite and normal but eyes fully betraying her true intentions. Stan could see the question in her face, and the slight quirk of her eyebrow made him flush. God, he really hoped Kyle wasn’t intuitive enough to pick on that.

“Hey, Wendy,” Kyle replied, equally as cordial. “I wasn’t…expecting you here.”

“Stan didn’t mention me?” Still making that face.

“No, he did. I mean, I just wasn’t expecting you to become part of this all.” Kyle glanced over to Tweek, who was curled up at the end of the bed on his phone. “Tweek too?”

“Gh, maybe next time don’t make people think you’re dead if you wanna disappear for a few days,” Tweek muttered, hands skittering on his phone screen but not looking up.

“I mean, it worked,” Craig said, and Stan was sure he flinched when Tweek snapped his head around to glare at him.

“Uh, so like…” Stan shifted his weight as the room all turned to look at him. “What’re we gonna do now?”

“Well, we can’t stay here,” Wendy said, gesturing to the room. “This room’s only meant for four people to start with. If they find out we’re breaking the fire code, we’ll get kicked out.”

“This place sucks anyway,” Craig said. “No TV.”

“Yeah, it is pretty boring,” Butters said, pulling a face.

“I could check to see if there’s anywhere better,” Tweek said, offering his phone up.

“Find somewhere with Netflix,” Craig said, and Tweek just nodded.

“To be honest, I meant more like what’re we gonna do now that we’ve like…found everyone,” Stan said, raising an eyebrow. “Are we going back?”

“If you start from early morning, you can make it back by late evening,” Kyle offered. “Especially if you take the most direct route.”

“I really don’t wanna have to take all those weird buses again,” Butters said, shivering. “I’m pretty sure one of them wasn’t even a real company!”

“I guess we can go back tomorrow then,” Wendy said, then glanced over the room. “Unless anyone has any objections?”

A long pause, before Tweek looked up. “There’s a place that has Netflix listed on their page thirty minutes from here, ngh.”

“Cool.” Craig was already pulling himself up from the top of the bed. “Let’s go.”

“You guys are really gonna walk thirty minutes for Netflix?” Wendy asked, frowning. The rest of the room made varying noises of agreements, and even Stan couldn’t say he was that against it. It was better than staying here, at least. Wendy just shook her head. “Well, fine, I guess. But let me have first pick.”

“No way,” Craig said. “You’ll probably just pick some gay indie film.”

Wendy looked mildly offended. “I’ll have you know that they’re actually a lot more tender and genuine than a lot of heterosexual movies-“

“Let’s just pick when we get there,” Stan cut in, too aware of Kyle stood next to him. The room was starting to feel too small and too cramped, and he was suddenly yearning to escape it. At least if they were outside they wouldn’t have to have this confusing six-way conversation. After being in silence for the past twenty-five minutes, he really didn’t want to have to deal with so much talking at once.

Considering they only had one bag each, it didn’t take long for them to pack everything away and head out from the room, keeping their heads down as they slid over the few keys they had back to reception. Stan was pretty sure the fact that there was six of them now was more suspicious than anything, but apparently nobody had found an issue with it yet.

Since they were the ones with the phone, Craig and Tweek took the lead of the group, and Stan eyed them as they seemed to walk just a little too close to each other. It still gave him a weird feeling, even if he couldn’t really place what it was. Not that he was bothered by it, but maybe it did make him kind of…jealous? Or- something like that. He didn’t even know. Jealous that they were lucky, and made it look so easy. Even with the fight.

Stan had expected to be walking next to Kyle, but somehow Butters’ never-ending chattiness had led to him getting stuck next to Kyle, talking about how it was such a coincidence they’d all ended up back together and what he’d been doing in that time and everything else that Stan could tell Kyle really wasn’t interested in talking about. He would’ve dived in to pull his friend away from the boring conversation if it wasn’t for Wendy’s incessant stare that he knew he was going to have to deal with sooner or later.

He guessed to Wendy’s credit, she managed hold back for a couple of seconds before she asked, “Did you tell him?”

Almost involuntarily, Stan’s eyes flickered to Wendy, before he forced himself to look away, flushing. “Tell him what?”

“You know.”

“I don’t,” Stan said, eyeing Kyle up ahead, scared he would hear them over Butters’ rambling. “Now- isn’t right.”

“Now is perfect!” Wendy exclaimed. “You haven’t seen each other in weeks. You could’ve run up to him with tears in your eyes and hugged like ‘oh Kyle, you’re actually my one true lo-‘”

“ _Dude_ , no.” Stan focused on the dark blue clouds up above. “It was nice enough anyway. Saying that stuff would just like…dilute it.”

“Did you fight? I wish I could’ve seen.”

“We didn’t fight,” Stan said, and he sounded almost surprised to himself as he said it. “I…thought we would, but we just talked.”

“So are things okay now?”

“I think so.”

“I’m glad,” Wendy said, then smiled at him. “You look like you’ve cleared out all your demons.”

Stan glanced down. “Well, not all of them, but. Yeah. I guess. It’s better now.”

“It’ll keep getting better,” Wendy said, and Stan couldn’t help but smile back, the words not sounding as stupid as they might’ve done before. Then, with an assertiveness Stan knew he’d never be able to possess, Wendy called out, “Hey, Kyle!”

Stan panicked, then flinched as Kyle turned to look at them, something relieved on his face as Butters paused mid-sentence. With as much subtlety as he could manage, Stan shot Wendy a look of ‘please do not say anything please I am begging you I will actually die’.

“You mind if I ask you something?” Wendy continued, and Kyle slowed his pace to join them, leaving Butters to walk alone. He didn’t look too fussed. “I hope it’s not uncomfortable, or anything. Since we haven’t really…spoken in a while.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kyle said, though he was staring at Stan as if to check that it really was. “I guess it’s nice to see you guys talking again.”

“We’re not dating or anything,” Stan blurted out, and felt hot when Kyle and Wendy both stared at him.

“Okay, dude,” Kyle said slowly. “What did you wanna ask, Wendy?”

“I was just wondering if we could talk when we get to the hotel,” she said, and Stan kept his wary gaze on her. “I get the feeling I don’t really know the full story, and I kind of want to.”

“I mean, I can, I guess.” Kyle shrugged, frowning. “Is it that interesting?”

“Definitely.” Wendy nodded. “There’s so much I want to talk about with you.”

“Wendy kind of got into the whole mystery aspect,” Stan explained, though he wasn’t even sure how true that was anymore. It was probably some kind of three-way split between that, escaping her regular peer-pressured life, and the chance to see boy drama, apparently.

“I really don’t think it was _that_ much of a mystery,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “We were just trying to take the responsibility away from ourselves. Nobody can be pissed off when they think something bad happened.”

“It was a pretty good plan,” Wendy said, nodding. “Though, I guess if Stan hadn’t been upset about it, I wouldn’t have really gotten properly involved.”

“I wasn’t that upset,” Stan tried to argue, and was instantly shot down by the looks that Kyle and Wendy gave him.

“I’m really glad nobody died, at least,” Wendy said then, smiling. “I think that’s the best kind of drama. Where everybody is okay in the end.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t really think I was dead, did you?”

“Not really,” Wendy said. “By the time Craig disappeared, I was pretty sure you were fine.”

“Going back is gonna suck,” Kyle said, sighing. “Like, I bet everyone makes a huge deal out of it. Fuck, I don’t even want to think about what Cartman’s gonna say…”

“Then don’t think about it,” Stan said. “Cartman’s too much of an asshole to waste thought on.”

“Agreed,” Wendy added.

“Also agreed,” Kyle said, then he laughed. “God, life is such _bullshit_.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Stan muttered without thinking, then paused when the two stared at him again. “Not…literally.”

“Anyway, let’s just talk when we get back, okay?” Wendy asked, attention back to Kyle, who just nodded. Something in her tone struck Stan as kind of suspicious, and he caught her gaze, trying to figure out what she was planning. Wendy just smiled, and shook her head very slightly, as if to confirm she wasn’t going to reveal anything- personal. Well, he…guessed he could trust her.

-

After a nearly forty-minute walk, Stan wasn’t really expecting that the hotel would that good, but it was actually pretty decent. They were late to check in, but just as the website had said, there were a few rooms available, all of course with the promised TV. Honestly, he didn’t care that much, but, whatever. If it would keep everyone quiet for the next twelve hours.

It seemed some kind of a miracle that they managed to find a room big enough for all of them for under two hundred dollars, complete with two double beds and a fold-out couch. A lot nicer than the other room, too. It smelt like air freshener and fabric softener, and something about it kind of made him miss home, in a lame way.

“Dibs on the bed,” Craig said near instantly, pushing past and taking the bed by the wall.

“Dibs on the other one?” Wendy said, glancing back at them.

“Jesus, that was fast,” Kyle said, frowning, and Stan didn’t even bother to join in with the game, heading over to the couch and throwing his bag on it, before collapsing down beside it.

“Oh jeez, I don’t gotta sleep on the floor, do I?” Butters asked, eyebrows quivering.

“No, it’s okay, Butters. You can share with me.” Wendy tilted her head just a little towards Stan, and he pressed his lips together, not saying anything. When Kyle walked over and sat down next to Stan on the couch, he didn’t dare check Wendy’s expression. As the shock and relief faded, it was starting to be really embarrassing knowing that she knew how he felt. Though- apparently everyone else did too.

There was a small tone from the TV as Craig started to flick through the different films, and Stan hunched up against the pillow, not bothering to pay any attention. It took about five more seconds before the ‘no, I don’t want to watch that’ discussion started, and Stan leaned his head back.

“Are you gonna talk to Wendy?” he asked, turning to Kyle. He didn’t look that enthusiastic, but nodded regardless.

“I guess.”

“She’s not that bad, y’know.”

“I never said she was bad,” Kyle said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah. But I thought you didn’t like her.”

“It’s not that I don’t like her,” Kyle said, then pulled a face. The noise of the Netflix debate seemed to be enough to drown out any potential bitching, luckily. “To be honest, I think I used to be kind of jealous of her.”

“Dude, she’s just as smart as you.”

“Well one of us is repeating the year, and one isn’t,” Kyle muttered bitterly, before brightening slightly. “Then again, maybe I can like her more when I’m not competing against her.”

“Maybe.” Stan glanced over at Wendy, who was mid-speech about why modern romance films were just as good as any classic. “She said she was jealous of you too.”

“Dude. No way.”

“She did!”

“About what?”

“Uh-“ Stan stopped, suddenly realising the reason that Wendy had been jealous of Kyle was because Stan paid him more attention over her, and there was no way to say that wasn’t totally dumb or embarrassing. “She didn’t really say, I dunno. But- I mean, you’re both jealous of each other. Maybe it’s just like, the grass is greener.”

“I think it’s good to be a little bit jealous,” Kyle said. “Then you don’t get like, too complacent.”

“I can’t imagine you being complacent.”

“Then maybe I’m just jealous of everyone all the time.”

“I used to be. But now I just don’t care.”

“That would almost be inspirational, if it wasn’t for the fact you don’t care about anything anymore,” Kyle said, shaking his head.

“Dude, that’s not true,” Stan said, frowning. “I care about lots of stuff. I care about you.”

He only realised how stupid that sounded after he’d said it, and pressed his mouth shut immediately after, suddenly glad that the insistent talking of the others meant nobody was paying them any attention. Luckily, Kyle didn’t seem weirded out by it, and just smiled, before he looked across to the other side of the room.

“Wendy, you wanted to talk?” he called out, and Wendy tore her eyes away from the TV, blinking at Kyle as if she’d forgotten he was there.

“Oh, right, of course.” She pulled herself up, throwing another scrutinising look at the other three. “Don’t pick anything bad whilst we’re gone.”

“If you’re out the room, then tough luck,” Craig said, and Wendy narrowed her eyes, but left the room with Kyle in tow. Stan watched after them almost sadly, even though he’d already spent all day with Kyle. But, like…a little longer didn’t hurt, right?

“That’s a jealous look if I ever saw one,” Craig muttered, and Stan snapped himself away from his sullen thoughts.

“I’m not jealous,” he huffed, drawing his knees up. “There’s no way anything would happen between those two.”

“Yeah,” was all Craig said, and Stan was almost surprised at the lack of disagreement. It was a little comforting, but he still felt a little on edge knowing they were out there, talking about things he didn’t know.

He tried to distract himself by watching the constant flicking through the menu on the TV, but after a while the endless snippets and previews started to bug him, and he closed his eyes instead.

This day had kind of lasted forever. Or at least, it felt like that. Like months had passed since he’d woken up this morning, still full of uncertainty and crippling guilt. The guilt was still kind of there, but maybe less intense. At least they were back to a good point now. They hadn’t even argued. So long as Stan didn’t fuck up again, he’d be fine. Easier said than done, but…

It felt almost like he was about to fall asleep when the door opened again, and Stan jumped as the two of them walked back in, looking about the same as they had before. Wendy reclaimed the place her bag was holding for her on the bed, and Kyle sat back down next to him.

“…You okay?” Stan asked after a second of waiting.

“Oh, yeah,” Kyle said, slumping back against the couch. “Sorry. It wasn’t anything bad.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Too much,” Kyle groaned, sparing a glance to where Wendy had already re-joined the conversation with the others. “I feel like I’ve just had an interview.”

“Yeah, she can be like that.”

“She talked about you too, though.”

“Oh.”

“She told me you’d been upset,” Kyle continued, and Stan felt the beginnings of irritation setting in, before- “But you’ve been doing a lot better, apparently. I guess just like you told me.”

“You didn’t believe me?”

“It’s just nice to hear it from someone else too,” Kyle said, then put his head back against the backrest, turning his head just a little towards him. “She was saying about how much you cared as well. Like you didn’t want to but you just kept trying. Honestly, it was like she was proud of you.”

“I did care,” Stan said, sad again at the thought of Kyle ever thinking otherwise. “’Cause, y’know. It’s _you_ , dude.”

Kyle didn’t reply, just giving him a fond look, and Stan was disappointed when he closed his eyes and broke it. The distant feeling disappeared a moment later when Kyle readjusted himself to lean against Stan’s side, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the familiarity of it. Maybe bad things really didn’t have to last forever. Like, apologising actually worked. Stuff changed, and not in a bad way.

“I’m so tired, dude,” Kyle said, sighing. “You don’t even wanna know how little sleep I’ve gotten in the past two weeks.”

“Probably more than Tweek,” Stan couldn’t help but say, looking up to where Tweek was still furiously pressing the down button on the remote, the menu whirring by. “But, yeah. I’m tired too.”

“And now we get the sofa-bed,” Kyle said, opening his eyes just to roll them. His voiced dipped down with a private secrecy as he muttered, “Assholes.”

“Assholes,” Stan repeated, then laughed a little.

“But I’m glad you’re getting better, even if it’s like- still a little slow,” Kyle continued. “It’s what you deserve. I’m proud of you too, dude.”

Stan opened his mouth, trying to form some kind of reply that wasn’t just ‘dude I fucking love you’, when the argument lifted into something louder, and their attention was stolen away, moment broken.

“If I have to watch a fucking Disney movie, I’m going to set this room on fire,” Craig said, making Butters flinch, upset shining in his eyes.

“But they’re sweet!”

“Disney is easy to watch,” Wendy pointed out. “Who said _you_ get to pick anyway?”

“Because I’m the only one without shit taste in movies,” Craig said, as Tweek continued to furiously flick through the list of movies and shows, scrolling so fast that the auto play couldn’t even jump into action anymore.

“Everyone here has shit taste in movies,” Stan couldn’t help but mutter quietly.

“Can’t you just vote on something?” Kyle asked, sitting up slightly.

“Oh god, we’re gonna be up picking stuff until 3am,” Tweek said, twitching as the titles on the screen started flicking up even faster. “Jesus!”

“Can we order Chinese?” Stan asked, shifting against the back of the sofa, feeling the springs creak beneath him. “Whilst you guys kill each other over Disney.”

“We’re _not_ watching Disney,” Craig said.

“What about Pixar?” Butters tried, and was promptly ignored.

“Do we have enough money?” Wendy asked, distracted from the screen. “See if you can find a cheap one.”

“Got any burner phones left?”

Kyle stared at him. “You guys have burner phones?”

“Uh, kind of a long story,” Stan said. “Like, with the bomb threat and the police and uh- not important right now.”

“You can probably use the phone here,” Wendy said, gesturing to a phone over on the table. “It shouldn’t be room service only.”

“Okay, I’ll give it a go,” Stan said, pulling himself up reluctantly.

“It really is kinda like a holiday, huh!” Butters said, grinning slightly. “It sure is a lot more fun with other people.”

“Wait, go back-“ Wendy said, waving a hand at Tweek. “I heard that won an award.”

“No horror!” Tweek yelped, scrolling to a different section.

Stan glanced back at Kyle, and they smiled at the same time. It was that good type of smile, the kind Stan knew meant ‘ _we’re so much better than all these guys’_. And it was kind of true. Everyone else was alright, but after everything- him and Kyle really were the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a chill chapter after all the drama!!! whew;;;


	28. 6th may, friday

**may 6th, friday**

True to their plan, the six of them woke up early that morning, stumbling out of the hotel in varying states of consciousness. Stan hadn’t really slept that much despite the calm, waking up with his head on the headrest of the couch just to check that Kyle was still there. A few times Kyle had been awake too, and they’d both stared at each other in the darkness, not saying anything.

Wendy slipped the key into the box at reception, and they trudged along the cold streets until reaching the train station. Stan hadn’t been bothered enough to put the sling over his jacket, one arm hanging empty. They probably looked a little weird walking together down the street at such an early hour, but Stan was pretty sure it didn’t matter anymore. They were going home. If they were caught now, the outcome would basically be the same.

They still had fifteen minutes to wait when they got to the station, a result of both Tweek and Wendy being anxious enough to want extra time, and Stan stayed leaning next to the metal column. It was cold enough that he could see his own breath, and Stan was thankful that Wendy had given them permission to don their respective hats again. He always felt kind of put off when he wasn’t wearing it, in a way he doubted he’d ever really grow out of.

“I’m gonna go grab breakfast from the café,” Wendy announced, standing in front of them like she was the teacher of a group of elementary school kids. She had her hair up again, though it seemed less oppressive now somehow. If hair could even be oppressive in the first place. “Anyone wanna join?”

“Ngh, yeah, I need coffee,” Tweek replied, shivering slightly but not too much. Craig nodded beside him.

“Sure, I’ll come,” Kyle said, and Stan was about to offer to join too when Kyle asked another question. “You think we can turn on our phones now? Like, since we’re heading back anyway.”

“I guess there’s no problem,” Wendy said, making a grab for her phone buried somewhere at the bottom of her bag. “I’m kind of going crazy without checking my texts.”

“I’ll wait here,” Stan said. “Probably better if we have like…someone watching for the train.”

“Want me to get you something, dude?” Kyle asked, and Stan managed a half-shrug, heart beating harder.

“Guess only Stan’s stayin’ here,” Butters said, and Stan just gave them a loose wave with his left hand as he watched them walk away. He didn’t care about the train that much, and it would be warmer in there than out here, but something about being there when Kyle read his text felt too awkward to even think about. He could hardly even remember it, and was suddenly scared it was actually really lame. Maybe if he was lucky, it failed delivery or something.

Instead of thinking about that impending embarrassment, Stan turned his attention to his own phone. The flash of the opening screen seemed foreign to him, feeling it had been about three months since he last turned it on. Everything booted up as normal, calm for a few seconds, before it started buzzing furiously with unread texts. Well, he’d pretty much been expecting that. Stan opened his messages, trying to ignore the ones from his mom. Clyde’s seemed the easiest to deal with, the most recent being from around eight last night.

_clyde: YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY!!! DUDE!!!!!  
clyde: But they didn't arrest me B)  
clyde: Oh  
clyde: Thank you_

_clyde: Yoy guys crazy they cancelled school again_

_clyde: Tell us if u find them :'(((_

Stan clicked back without replying, anxious to check the other messages first. At least it all seemed fine so far. Clyde was probably most vulnerable out of all of them, but he still didn’t really want to see a message like ‘Jimmy’s in jail’ or ‘Token got a bail even he can’t pay’. Stan scrolled down the list, glancing over the texts.

_Token: Did you guys turn off your phones? Wendy isn't replying either.  
Token: I think most people in school have figured it out. It's pretty crazy right now._

_jimmy XD: Message from Kenny, he says he thinks you're awesome and message to let him know if you're all okay_

_Bebe: Tell Wendy to text me back!!!!!!_

Everything seemed fine at home, then. Stan only felt a little bitter that two out of four messages were just asking for Wendy, but he tried not to dwell on it too much. Instead, he turned his attention to the last of the messages, guilt churning in his stomach. More than any of the others combined.

_mom: What do you mean? Where are you_

_mom: Stan  
mom: Stanley I'm worried. Please call me.   
mom: Please_

_mom: Is Wendy with you  
mom: Is this something to do with Kyle?  
mom: He'll be okay honey. Please don't do anything rash_

_mom: Stan it’s late_

_mom: Are you still okay?_

_mom: Can you ring me when you can_

_mom: Nobody's heard from you in 3 days Stanley  
mom: If you can please call me I am so worried_

The last two were only from maybe twenty minutes ago, and Stan stared at them for a moment, before turning back to check none of the others had gotten back. He really didn’t want any witnesses for this, but luckily the area was still empty. With his heart in his mouth, he clicked call. It only took two rings before it picked up.

“Uh, Mom-?”

“Stan.” She sounded breathless, background noise cluttering around her voice. It was too early for her to be awake for work, and he wondered what she’d been doing. “Stanley, oh my _god_. Where are you? Are you safe- are you okay? Where _are_ you?”

“I’m okay, Mom. I’m coming back soon.”

Another crack of background noise, before it settled into something quieter. He considered if she was trying to escape to a different room from his dad. “Stanley, where are you?”

“Um, we were just…” There didn’t seem any point in telling her their exact location, so he just let his voice trail off, unsure of what else to add.

“Is Wendy with you?”

“Yeah, um. There’s a few of us.”

“Who? Who are you with?” Her voice grew more desperate. “Stan, please- just explain. Please. Your father keeps saying you’re fine and I’m worrying over nothing, but- I can’t help it. I’m _scared_ , Stanley.”

“No, I- I’m sorry I made you worry.” Stan stared down at the train tracks, vision unfocused. “Me and Wendy went to find the others. We found everyone, so. We’re coming back now.”

“You found everyone?” she repeated. “You found Kyle?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he okay? He’s there with you now? Has he rung his mom yet?”

“No, he went to get breakfast, I…I dunno-“ Stan struggled for words, suddenly feeling more guilty that he hadn’t even considered how worried Kyle’s mom would be. All he’d been scared about was that text, but- maybe it didn’t really matter so much after all. “He’s probably gonna ring her. We had to keep our phones off.”

“But he’s okay?”

“Yeah, everyone’s fine.”

“Is everything okay?”

It could’ve been the same question, but Stan knew his mom well enough to know that she was asking something entirely different. Even still, it was difficult to answer, and he tried to come up with something that wasn’t too long or too lame. “I think so, yeah. Everyone’s fine. We’re fine. I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Just so long as I know you’re safe,” his mom said, then let out a long sigh, letting the silence afterwards hang between them. “God, Stan. This and everything else…”

“I’m really sorry,” Stan said quietly, throat feeling tight. “But it’s okay now. It all worked out, and it ended up being- kind of good.”

“I want to say I don’t agree, but- this whole thing has at least got you out of the house more. And drinking less.”

“…I didn’t know you knew about that.”

“You don’t live with a heavy drinker for half your life and fail to pick up on the signs.”

Stan was quiet for a few seconds, pressure behind his eyes. “I’m gonna get help when I get back.”

“You will?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna get my shit together- I mean, my stuff, together. I’ll sort it out.”

“Stan-“

“I have to go now, though,” Stan said, glancing behind him once more. It couldn’t be long now. “We’re getting the train. I’ll be back tonight.”

“Okay,” his mom said. She sounded tired. “I’ll make the pasta you like.”

“…Thanks.” He pressed his eyes shut to stop the stinging. “Sorry I’m a bad son.”

“You’re not a bad son, Stanley. You’re still young. It’s okay.”

“Thanks,” he said again. “See you.”

“See you. I love you.”

The urge to burst into tears lingered as he stood there alone on the platform, a muffled announcement in the distance. When the others arrived back, he had to hurry to pull himself together like nothing had happened.

“Got you some bagged fruit,” Kyle said, walking up next to him and tossing it over to him. “It’s probably eco-friendly, I didn’t check…hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, glancing down at the slices of apple. “I was just checking my texts…uh. Did you ring your mom?”

“I sent her a text,” Kyle said wryly. He pulled out his phone and held it up next to Stan’s face. Even with the distance and distraction of the others talking beside them, Stan could still hear its frantic buzzing, and he laughed.

“I’m glad my mom is a lot more chill.”

“Getting back is gonna be fun,” Kyle sighed, shaking his head as he tucked the phone back away. “I might die for real.”

“Did Ike know?” Stan found himself asking. Kyle raised an eyebrow.

“You spoke to him?”

“Kind of, yeah. He wasn’t worried.”

“Yeah, I told him,” Kyle admitted, and Stan just nodded. “I thought if I didn’t he’d probably get mad, and figure it out anyway. I can totally see him snitching just to get revenge.”

“I don’t think Craig told his sister,” Stan said, glancing over to where the others were chatting. “I don’t know. She wasn’t worried either.”

“In hindsight, we probably told too many people,” Kyle said, frowning. “Though I’m blaming that mostly on Craig. I only told Ike, and I don’t think Butters told anyone, but it was Kenny who made him go. I don’t even know how Kenny found out.”

“I think Kenny might be a supernatural being.”

“You’re crazy,” Kyle said, snorting. “Me too.”

The aura of it being some kind of school trip returned when the train finally pulled in and Wendy herded them all onboard, staying on the platform longest to check nobody had been left behind. Predictably, they all chose to split up once in the carriage, and also predictably, Kyle chose to sit next to him. Stan grinned as they sat down together, arms brushing.

It was a relatively long journey back to the bus station, and after finishing the fruit, Stan pulled out his phone again, pleased to see no more heart wrenching messages from his mom. Kyle was busy staring out the window, the whir of his phone finally having died down, so Stan pulled out his earphones and tried to find something that wasn’t likely to make him cry. Considering how mixed up his head felt, it was harder than it seemed.

He was resting his head against the seat when Kyle tapped his arm, and he glanced over at him, tugging one earphone out.

“What’re you listening to?”

“Uh. Dumb stuff.”

“Can I listen?” Kyle asked, and Stan blinked, already trying to think of how many normal songs he had on his phone.

“Didn’t you bring your own?”

“You don’t wanna share that badly?” Kyle frowned, shifting back slightly.

“I mean, I don’t care. But my music’s weird. I dunno what to pick.”

“Dude, just put on anything,” Kyle said, then added, “And wipe it off before you give it me.”

Stan rolled his eyes, but complied. As the current song played on, he couldn’t help but feel mildly embarrassed. He missed when they both enjoyed exactly the same things. All the same bands, all the same songs. “I don’t know why you want to listen to music you don’t like.”

“I like some of it,” Kyle insisted.

“Just…tell me if you wanna skip,” Stan said, then quickly turned off shuffle just so he could know exactly what was going to play. But to his surprise, Kyle didn’t drop any complaints, even after a couple more songs passed. It would’ve been nice, and peaceful, if Stan didn’t look up during a pause in the song to see Kyle frowning down at his phone.

“…Still your mom?” he asked after a few seconds, and Kyle shook his head, then glanced up.

“Sorry, uh. I had one more thing I wanted to ask.”

It was definitely that text. Fuck. “…Sure.”

“Why did you- do this?” Kyle asked, then flashed his phone over to him. But instead of seeing any of their messages up on the screen, there was the dark blue background of a blog that looked like it was made about fifteen years ago. And a title at the top, about ‘mystery in a tiny mountain town’. Stan swallowed.

“I-“ he started, then stopped, pausing the music. “I forgot about that.”

“I was reading over it back at the café,” Kyle continued, still scrolling up and down with furrowed brows. “It’s weird. Like, I’m reading about myself, but not actually myself.”

“I really didn’t think anyone was gonna see it,” Stan muttered, feeling reminiscent of how he had back when Wendy had questioned him about him. He almost wanted to add ‘especially not _you’_ , but kept his mouth shut.

“I just didn’t think you were the type to go talking to reporters. And- say stuff like this, I guess.”

“It’s not like I went out looking for him,” Stan said, focus back on his arm. Still cooped up, still reminding him. “Besides, like- don’t you kind of wish it had happened like that? Or something. It’s not that weird to wanna pretend.”

“I don’t think it could’ve happened anyway,” Kyle said quietly, eyes resting at the end of the article. “You made us too nice to each other. It’s too saccharine. Not enough drama.”

“I didn’t want there to be drama,” Stan said, frowning. “I just wanted- something nice. Something to make it seem like what actually happened…didn’t.”

Maybe he was focusing too much on his arm, or maybe Kyle just wasn’t interesting in asking anymore, but silence fell between them. Stan felt a weird hum of sadness, like getting caught out in the lie had cancelled everything else, even if Kyle had only learnt it about less than two hours ago. Stan kept his hand over the play button on his phone, but let it hover. It felt like there was still something left to say, but he didn’t know what.

Just as he was about to give in and restart the music, Kyle pulled off his glove, and held his hand up by Stan’s face.

“Here,” he said, and Stan stared. “You can’t really see it anymore, but it’s probably going to scar a bit.”

“What’s-“ Stan stopped, focusing on Kyle’s hand enough to notice the thin outline of a cut winding from the knuckle to the thumb. His mind flashed back to the blood on the wall, and Stan felt something tighten in his chest.

“It doesn’t last forever,” Kyle said, eyes on the seat in front of him as if there was suddenly something extra interesting about it. “I know mine’s not as bad, but- you know. You- your arm. It won’t hurt that much after a while.”

He lowered his hand, and Stan was sure he was going to just tuck it back under the safety of his glove again, but instead, he lowered it to rest against Stan’s. For a few seconds, he stared at it, dazed, before he shifted his thumb just a little to hit the play button again, moving his hand to fit better with Kyle’s.

“I saw that text you sent, by the way,” Kyle continued, and Stan met his eyes before looking away, chest squirming.

“Oh. Right.”

“I wish I’d have seen it sooner.”

“…I wish I’d have _sent_ it sooner.”

Kyle just shrugged, closing his eyes. Stan kept quiet, gentle guitar in his left ear. Then Kyle said, “Now’s fine too, I guess.”

Stan nodded, focusing on the weight of Kyle’s hand on his own. “Now’s fine too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one more to go!!!!!!! i'll try to have it up on saturday ;o;;;; don't worry lol, it'll be longer than this one ^^;;;


	29. 13th may, friday

**may 13th, friday**

“It seems much better now.”

Stan flexed his fingers out experimentally, trying to get used to the newfound freedom of not having half his arm confined in a sling. Moving his elbow still hurt a little, but it was no worse than any of the bruises he’d gotten playing football as a kid.

The nurse gave the top of his forearm another cautious press, before he stepped back and nodded in satisfaction. “I’ll give you a brace to wear for a short while, but the sprain is near healed now.”

“So I can keep the sling off?” Stan asked, watching as the nurse moved back to his desk. It was the same room as before, but somehow it didn’t feel as oppressive as last time.

“If you’re happy with that,” the nurse replied, not looking up. Stan glanced down at himself, running a hand along his arm, before smiling just a little.

“Yeah, I am.”

It didn’t take long to finish up after the initial check of his arm, and Stan was nodding his goodbye a couple minutes later. No sling, no painkillers, and probably a whole lot less judgment. Having his arm so mobile was a weird sensation, and Stan had to force himself to lower it down to his side instead of against his chest, where it had been sat for the past month.

The doors slid open, and Stan brightened a little more when he noticed Kyle and Wendy still sat waiting on the wall opposite. As he approached, they jumped up, grinning at him, and Stan had never felt so good after leaving a doctor’s office.

“They took it off!” Wendy said, glancing at his arm, and Stan nodded. “It’s almost strange seeing you without it now.”

“I mean, I always had two arms.”

“I guess I didn’t really see it as much, so it’s not that weird to me,” Kyle said, shrugging. “But it’s better now, right, dude?”

“Basically,” Stan said, and was pleased at the sensation of finally able to shrug both his shoulders properly. “He said I gotta wear this brace for a bit, but I can take it off whenever I want.”

“It looks like some kind of sports injury now,” Kyle said. “You could totally just tell people you got way too into a game of tennis.”

“Ugh, no. Tennis is lame.”

“Tennis is _not_ lame,” Kyle said, crossing his arms, and Stan just grinned back at him.

“Well, even without the sling, I still don’t think you should be doing any heavy lifting,” Wendy continued. “So no trying to carry any of those big soda bottles.”

“Dude, c’mon.”

“Wendy’s actually right,” Kyle said, and it surprised Stan that he didn’t actually looked too pained to admit that. “If you fuck up your arm again just by trying to show off, I’m gonna be seriously pissed off.”

“It’s not showing off,” Stan muttered. “It feels kind of weak right now anyway. I doubt I could even lift that much.”

“Well, don’t even try it,” Kyle ordered, and Stan just nodded, knowing it was a hopeless fight when Kyle used that tone of voice. “You guys all ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Stan said, moving next to Kyle as Wendy nodded, taking his other side. They set off down the street, and Stan let himself bask in the comfortable silence for a few seconds, relishing the fact that the two of them were there with him. They’d been talking whilst he was in the doctor’s office, and they didn’t even look like they wanted to kill each other. It was a small miracle.

“What were you guys talking about?” Stan couldn’t help but ask, glancing between the two of them.

“Mostly just filling Wendy in on the past week,” Kyle said, and Stan nodded.

“Yeah, I guess you missed a lot.” Stan looked to Wendy. “But I really don’t think anyone would’ve minded if you’d have come to Kyle’s with us.”

“Not my place,” was all Wendy said, and Stan didn’t like the way her lips pulled up just slightly, eyes twinkling.

“Nah, I think you being there helped enough, dude,” Kyle said, and Stan thought back to when they’d arrived back at Kyle’s house together and had struggled to break through the all the anticipation that had built up. They’d even talked for at least three minutes about whether he needed to knock on the door whilst standing outside, Kyle torn at the thought of just ‘strolling in’ after being gone for so long. Stan hadn’t really got it, and they’d ended up not knocking.

It had still been awkward after that, standing there next to Kyle whilst his mom went off on some rant, but looking back now, she’d definitely held back somewhat due to Stan’s presence. At one point she had even shot Stan a grateful look he’d never seen before, and he was still trying to comprehend that. Kyle didn’t get any of those looks though.

_“I try for all these years to raise my kids the right way,”_ she had ranted, pacing between the door and the coffee table whilst Kyle had sat on the sofa with Stan beside him, head down. _“Spend my life to try and raise you boys to be good people!”_

_“Sorry, Mom,”_ Kyle had muttered, and he and Stan had side-eyed each other at the same time.

_“You just keep breaking all these windows_!” she had carried on, and Kyle had looked up then. _“Oi, I just don’t understand it! First Ike, now you! What is happening with my children!”_

“Yeah, I don’t really think she’s processed it yet,” Kyle said, shaking his head as they paused at the traffic lights. “But that’s probably good. Gives me more time to prepare before she really goes insane.”

“She seemed okay about the other stuff,” Stan pointed out, remembering Kyle’s mom’s uncharacteristically calm reaction to him confessing about all the struggles he’d had with school, and wanting to resit the year. The explanation had been watered down a lot, sure, but Stan had expected more of a flip out. He half suspected she was still too caught up about the window to process anything.

“Oh, and for how long?” Kyle asked. “It’ll hit her eventually, I promise you.”

“Maybe she’s gonna do it one by one,” Stan suggested. “She’s mad at the window now, then she’ll be mad about your room, and then the schoolwork.”

“Yeah,” Kyle said, laughing as the light flickered to green. “Like she can’t properly rage at everything all at once. Gotta split it up and do it in parts.”

“God, I would hate if my parents did that,” Stan said, pulling a face. “It’d never end.”

“They were happy though, right?” Wendy asked, leaning over past Stan to glance at Kyle. “Your family?”

“I guess.” Kyle shrugged. “Ike had this total shit-eating grin though. He was stood at the top of the stairs like he always does, just watching.”

“Dude, I noticed that,” Stan said.

“I’m lucky my parents weren’t really mad,” Wendy said. “More than anything they were just mad about missing two days of school. But like it mattered. They just gave us like a week off!”

“I guess we know a way to cancel school now though,” Stan pointed out, and grinned when Wendy shot him an exasperated look and Kyle groaned. “Senior year prank.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Kyle said, rolling his eyes. “Besides, that would never work, dude. Enough times and they’d just get used to it and stop giving a shit.”

“Like they gave a shit to start with.”

“I guess they care about their reputation,” Wendy added. “Just get a parent to sue and you’ll be fine.”

“This town’s fucking crazy,” Kyle said as they approached the store. “And I guess I can include myself in that too.”

“It’s the cold,” Wendy said, collecting a basket as they moved through the double doors that creaked when they opened, same way as they had done for the past ten years. “Slows down the blood getting to our brain, so we all go crazy.”

“Jesus, dude, don’t even say that,” Stan said, frowning. “Sounds too true.”

“I’ll do a study on it,” Kyle said. “A thesis about how the temperature of twenty degrees turned a whole town’s brains into mush.”

“I’ll peer review it for you,” Wendy offered, and Stan grinned again at the thought. It was nice seeing them get along. “Okay! You guys know what to get, right?”

Stan blinked. “Snacks?”

“Specifically though,” Wendy said, and Stan glanced at Kyle, who stared back just as blankly.

“…Chocolate?” he tried again, and Wendy just shook her head.

“There’s gonna be like thirteen people there, so make sure you get-“ Wendy cut herself off suddenly, looking to Kyle. “Kyle, I’ll leave it you. I’m sure know what was on the list.”

“Yeah, snacks,” Kyle repeated, and Stan had to fight to stop himself from laughing.

“I’ll get the drinks,” she said, turning so swiftly that her hair nearly smacked an elderly man passing by beside her. “Meet me back at the front when you’re done.”

They watched her stride off down the aisles, and Stan noticed Kyle raise an eyebrow. “She’s still, uh, kind of…”

“Yeah,” Stan agreed. “But she’s nice.”

“Super best friend nice?” Kyle asked as he turned away, moving down the aisles, and Stan hurried to follow.

“No way, dude. She’s just Wendy, but you’re Kyle.”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t lose your memory after your appointment,” Kyle said, then paused in front of the frozen section. “Shit, did she want us get some of this stuff? I forgot.”

“I can check what people said in the group chat,” Stan said, moving his left arm out of habit, before remembering that he was still right-handed and should probably start using his dominant arm again. Even if the pain was nearly gone, it was still stiff and uncomfortable, and Stan was careful in his movements as he lifted his phone up. Only after he’d scrolled back through the chat and checked the list did he realise that Kyle was watching him carefully, and he raised an eyebrow in question.

“Does it still hurt?” Kyle asked, gazing at the brace on his elbow, and Stan followed his stare. “Like, I know they said it’s fine, but…”

“Yeah, dude. It’s really fine.”

“You’re sure?” Kyle stared deeply at him, as if assessing him for any dishonesty, and Stan managed a nod in response. “Can I see?”

“I mean, there’s not really anything to see…”

“C’mon, dude,” Kyle urged, then his voiced switched to something more unguarded. “I just wanna check if you’re alright.”

Reluctantly, Stan held out his arm, glancing around as Kyle’s hand hovered cautious around the brace. He probably wouldn’t have let anyone else get that close considering it was still healing, but it was different for Kyle. His hand was so careful as it drifted on the skin around the fabric that it almost could’ve been sweet, if they weren’t stood in front of the bright packaging of frozen corn and carrots. Even still, Stan felt himself flushing, and pulled his arm back a few more moments later.

“See? It’s fine.”

“I guess it seems okay,” Kyle said, still looking a little hesitant. “Just…tell me if it hurts again.”

“It’s really fine, Kyle,” Stan said, anxious to keep moving before his red face could get called out. “Nobody wanted any frozen stuff anyway, so let’s just get a ton of chips and chocolate.”

“Yeah,” Kyle said, back to his grin, and Stan relaxed a little as they kept walking, still close to one another. Maybe it was because they were always brushing arms whilst walking that Stan felt so empty whenever Kyle wasn’t next to him. He hoped that made it at least a little less gay.

They had twenty dollars to buy snacks with, and their friends’ requests didn’t fill up the entire cost, leaving the rest to them. Stan felt kind of like a kid again staring at the packages, arguing with Kyle about what the best type of M&Ms were, before finally getting both. It was the same giddy feeling, though he could reach the packets on the top shelf now.

Wendy had taken the basket, and neither of them had thought to pick up another one, leaving them to walk back to the front of the store with the bags balanced in their arms. She was already waiting for them near the cashiers, basket full of soda bottles and cans.

“You know you’re allowed to use the baskets too, right?” she teased, raising an eyebrow, and Stan did his best to shrug as he dumped the stash onto the conveyer belt. “Is everyone still okay for tonight?”

“Think so,” Stan said, moving aside to let Kyle place his stuff down. “Man, I really wanna see Kenny again. It feels like months since we last spoke.”

“God, same,” Kyle said. “I don’t know why he always seems to disappear so much. And then he acts like we’re the ones ignoring him.”

“Well if he comes tonight, you can ask him why,” Wendy said, then her expression soured. “Just please tell me that Cartman isn’t coming.”

“In a perfect world,” Kyle muttered.

“So basically, yeah, he’s gonna show up,” Stan said, watching as Wendy took over packing the bags, leaving no space for them to even offer to help. “You can just go and show off how not dead you are. That’ll probably annoy him.”

“Ugh, no. I’d rather just avoid him all night.”

“We can do that too.”

“Well, we’ve still got a few hours to prepare ourselves,” Wendy said, grabbing one of the bags. When Stan tried to pick up the other one, she moved it away from him, frowning. “Uh, I don’t think so.”

“It’s really fine-“

“No way, dude,” Kyle said, taking it instead. Stan sighed, wondering why it was only now the sling was gone did people seem to be wary of him hurting himself. Not that he minded that much, but only because it was these two. “So what’re we gonna do now? Since we’ve got time to kill.”

“I mean, you guys can come to mine if you want,” Stan said, still feeling empty-handed as they left the shop. “My mom won’t mind.”

“Anything to avoid going home,” Kyle muttered. “I don’t wanna find out if your ‘one-by-one’ theory was right.”

“But am I okay to join?” Wendy asked. “It’s fine if you guys want to hang together, like-“

“No, Wendy, seriously it’s fine,” Stan cut in before she could say too much. “Besides, you’ve basically been breaking into my house all month. It’s really not a big deal.”

“If you say so,” Wendy said, then smirked just a little. “Besides, you’ve got all night to spend together.”

Stan just rolled his eyes, thankful at least that Kyle didn’t really pick up on her teasing. It was both a blessing and a curse that his best friend was so dense. But Stan knew it was just teasing, and tried not to think too much about it.

He wasn’t really nervous, anyway. They were just going to have a good time, and he didn’t care about anything else. Tonight, there wasn’t going to be any pressure. Just him, and them. Like it was meant to be.

-

When it came to parties, Stan wasn’t sure he could honestly say that he’d enjoyed any of them since he was at least fifteen. As soon as the kids in his class had found out how to reliably get a stash of alcohol without getting arrested, it had all gone downhill pretty fast. Most of them he either couldn’t remember, or just didn’t want to.

But this time was different. That much was obvious when Stan walked in to see only four people slumped on the sofa, instead of forty stood around in a damp darkness. It was empty enough to actually breathe in, and Stan grinned to see one of the players on the TV instantly get knocked out as they walked in.

“Aw man, you made me lose,” Token said, dropping the controller and leaning back against the sofa, before looking around with a smile. “Good to see you guys though.”

“Hey, long time no see,” Kyle said, smiling wryly, and Token just laughed.

“Where are the others?” Wendy asked as Stan leaned down onto the back of the sofa, watching the remaining three players.

“Uh, Clyde and the girls are in the kitchen,” Token said, then leaned back to look behind the sofa. “Kenny and Butters were here before, but they might’ve gone in there too. And-“

“No, don’t say it,” Kyle interrupted, expression turning. “There is nobody else here but the people you just mentioned.”

"You got about two m-mminutes to keep believing that,” Jimmy said, eyes still on the game, and Kyle let out a long groan.

“Is that my cue to get out of here?” he asked, glancing around warily, and Wendy edged towards the kitchen.

“Maybe I’ll go find the others before that happens too-“

“Wait, we should get everyone in here since you guys are here now,” Token said, standing up at the same time Craig put down his controller.

“I’m blaming that loss on you,” he muttered, and Token rolled his eyes.

“Gh, don’t be a sore loser,” Tweek said from beside him.

“You can come through with me,” Token offered to the three of them, then glanced at Stan. “Hey, your sling is gone.”

“Yeah, just got it off after school.” Stan flexed his arm out to prove its health, and didn’t miss the way Kyle shot him a disapproving look. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Pretty cool,” Token said, and Stan followed after him into the kitchen, which was maybe the same size of Stan’s entire downstairs. Sometimes he forgot how big Token’s house was. It was a mystery why they didn’t just have parties here every time.

“It’s not cooking because you put it on the bottom shelf,” Bebe was saying, whilst Clyde and Nichole leaned over the oven. “Put it on the top, god.”

“Dude, no, the cheese’ll burn,” Clyde said, standing up with a frown. He seemed to notice Token at the same moment, turning to him with a desperate expression. “Token, tell the girls that you won’t stand for burnt cheese in your household. It’s against the house rules. Trust me, I’ve been coming here for _years_ -“

“Oh, hey Wendy,” Bebe greeted, and Nichole waved at the three of them.

“I don’t have any rules like that,” Token answered to Clyde, frowning. “But I mean, non-burnt cheese is always better.”

“It’s not gonna burn ‘cause it’s not gonna cook!” Bebe exclaimed, crossing her arms.

“Oh, hey, you guys brought snacks,” Nichole said, smiling at them, and Stan smiled back. He’d forgotten that Nichole was actually… _nice_. Kind of a shame he’d never gotten to speak to her directly in the past few weeks.

“I’m pretty sure we got everything.” Wendy dropped the bags on the side, starting to unload the snacks and drinks. Then suddenly, she turned back to the others, face serious. “Listen, girls. We need to gather everyone for a gossip session.”

“Oh, I _know_ ,” Bebe said, equally as serious. “I was speaking to Lola earlier, and she said she’s finished part two of the latest rumour collection, but there’s still a missing chunk for the first part that _needs_ to be discussed.”

“I wanna read it too,” Clyde sulked, and Bebe just shook her head sadly. Conversely, Stan had never been so sure of not wanting to read a book.

“I’m gonna gather everyone in the lounge, if you guys are okay with the pizza,” Token said, eyeing the oven uncertainly. “Just so we can like…say hi to each other?”

“We have to congratulate everyone on not dying!” Clyde exclaimed, then nodded firmly at Kyle. “Congrats, dude.”

“…Thanks.”

“Sure, it sounds nice,” Nichole said, moving away from the oven. “I think the pizza’s already kind of messed up anyway.”

“You guys can eat the burnt side,” Bebe muttered, rolling her eyes.

When they walked back into the other room, the game seemed to have finished, with the others back on the main screen and scrolling through options. Stan got the impression they weren’t going to wait for any kind a speech before starting a new game.

More importantly, Kenny and Butters had reappeared back into the room, sitting on the floor next to the sofa with Butters watching the TV and Kenny with a bag of popcorn in his lap. He caught Stan’s eyes and waved at them, grinning, though Stan didn’t get a chance to say anything before Clyde took a step forward.

“Okay, now everyone’s here!” he said, grinning and putting his hands on his hips as if it was his house and his party. Well, Stan was pretty sure it was his idea, so maybe it kind of was. “Lemme begin-“

“Begin what?” Cartman’s voice asked, and Stan wilted slightly as he rounded the door, face as fat and judgemental as ever. He knew it was coming and he was still disappointed. “Oh, _Kyle_ , wasn’t expecting to see you here. I don’t think you should break any of Token’s windows though. Even a money-hoarder like you won’t be able to pay off _that_ debt.”

“Oh shut up, Cartman, at least I was fucking invited.”

“I got invited-!”

“Like hell you did!”

“Guys, fight afterwards, I gotta make my announcement before the pizza cooks,” Clyde cut in, frowning, and Stan was thankful for the interruption. “So, we’re all here to celebrate nobody dying.”

“Do we really need to celebrate that?” Bebe asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, it’s not like anybody was actually in danger.”

“Dude, you can totally die out on the streets!”

“I think it’s more likely you’ll die here,” Craig muttered, and Kenny snickered behind his hood for whatever reason.

“Listen, there’s tons of stuff that can go wrong on the street- Tweek told me- wait, no, you’re ruining it!” Clyde took a deep breath before starting again. “Okay, so because we’re celebrating that nobody died and maybe there was no actual danger even though there totally was, then the first rule of the party is that nobody is allowed to die.”

“We’re setting rules?” Token asked, looking increasingly more confused.

“What happens if we break it?” Kenny asked.

“And the second rule-“ Clyde continued, a little louder. “No secret plotting. And no crying.”

Butters screwed up his nose slightly, looking up beside Kenny. “Aw, but there’s nothin’ wrong with crying-“

“I’m not gonna cry!” Clyde exclaimed, then folded his arms with a harsh movement. “And the other rule is that nobody’s allowed to get blackout drunk, ‘cause that never ends well.”

“Agreed,” Stan muttered.

“And the last rule-“

“No being faggy,” Cartman interrupted, looking bored as he leaned against the edge of the sofa, and Clyde shot him a look.

“You can be as gay as you want,” he said firmly. The way he was looking at Craig and Tweek was all too obvious, and Stan almost felt embarrassed on their behalf, even if the intentions were probably good.

“I think we should make a rule saying no being Cartman,” Craig added in a flat voice, apparently unfazed by the attention.

“Hey, fuck you, Craig-“

“I like that one,” Kyle said, smiling.

“Can I add a rule that you try not to break anything?” Token piped up, looking mildly concerned.

“Okay, okay, additional rules,” Clyde said, drawing the focus back to him. “Be gay, don’t be Cartman, don’t break anything. Is that good?”

“Pretty good ru-rules,” Jimmy said, eyes back on the TV. “Who’s playing fourth player?”

“Can I?” Nichole asked, sitting down beside them on the floor.

“Wait, I have one last rule,” Clyde said, then paused and grinned as if he was building suspense, when all he was really doing was losing the remaining attention he had of the room. “You have to- have fun!”

A beat of silence passed over the room, only interrupted by the voice counting down on the TV and the slight utterance of ‘oh Jesus’ by Tweek.

“That was lame,” Craig said at last, and the room fell into a clutter of agreements.

“I feel like I’m at a church youth club party,” Stan muttered to Kyle, who laughed in response.

“Well, thank god that’s over,” Cartman said, glancing around the room with sharp eyes. “Where’s the snacks?”

“In the kitchen, but you’re _not_ eating them all, fatass-“ Kyle didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Cartman was heading out the room, and Kyle shot after him before Stan had a chance to even think. He sighed, trying to decide whether it was worth going after them. Honestly, probably not. Maybe Kyle just needed to bitch at Cartman for a bit longer to feel like things were really back to normal.

Instead, Stan turned his attention to Kenny over by the sofa, stepping around the girls and Clyde to get to him. Slipping down on the floor beside Kenny and Butters almost reminded him of the party last month, if Tweek had been beside them and the buzz of drunkenness had been growing in his head.

“Lost Kyle already?” Kenny asked with a grin, then offered out the popcorn bag to him. Stan shook his head, pushing it back.

“Cartman got him.”

“Cartman sure did miss havin’ us all around!” Butters said cheerily. “That first mornin’ back at school, he looked pretty happy to see me and Kyle back again!”

“Right,” Stan said, choosing not to mention that Cartman’s glee was almost undoubtedly because he’d gotten back his two main targets of taunting. “But Kenny, where’ve you been? Were you avoiding us?”

“No.” Kenny shrugged. “I’ve been around.”

“I wanted to talk to you, dude.”

“You did.”

“I did?”

“Yeah,” Kenny said, picking up a piece of popcorn that had fallen on the carpet and flicking it into his mouth. “But what did you wanna talk about?”

“I dunno. I just…feel like you’ve been absent for the entire time.” Stan frowned, glancing at Butters. “How are you even here, Butters? Your parents didn’t ground you?”

“Oh, yeah, they did.” Butters fidgeted his hands together. “But, uh. I decided I don’t really care about them anymore.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Butters said, smiling slightly. “I mean, I ain’t a kid no more. And my mom and dad are always treatin’ me like I’m doing everything wrong, but it’s probably just ‘cause they’re scared to admit to their own wrongdoings, y’know? I think they got a lot of guilt. Think they’re scared to feel that.”

“…Oh,” Stan said, unsure of what to say to that sudden psychoanalysis. “Well, yeah. I guess.”

“Ideally they would’ve gotten arrested,” Kenny said, shrugging. “But, this works too.”

“Maybe you should’ve set up a crime scene, like Kyle,” Stan suggested.

“Nah, dude, that would be near impossible-“

Kenny cut himself off as he flinched, a bag of pretzels smacking into his arm. When they turned around, Kyle was making his way over to them, luckily not looking too moody after his encounter with Cartman. He further brightened as he settled down beside Stan.

“Sorry, Kenny, I didn’t mean to hit you,” Kyle said, and Kenny just shook his head. “I got these secured, but I can’t guarantee any of the other stuff will still be there in ten minutes.”

“And the world is how it’s meant to be,” Kenny said, snickering, and Kyle rolled his eyes. Before anyone else could say anything further, a burst of music filled the air, before quickly being turned down when every person in the room turned to look at a sheepish looking Jimmy over by the speakers. Quiet enough to at least fade into background music.

“I can’t tell if that makes it feel more or less like a youth club party,” Kyle said, turning back to the others.

“At least it’s not Queen,” Stan muttered.

“Dude, what? What’s wrong with Queen? They’re like, rock classics! Everyone likes Queen.”

“Not _everyone_.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now,” Kyle said, giving Stan a disappointed look.

“He’s just mad because it was playing at the last party,” Kenny said, digging around in the bottom of the packet before placing it beside him. “Guess you’re lucky that nobody played Another One Bites the Dust. Or Killer Queen.”

“Right, because the music playing at that party was totally predictive of real-life events,” Kyle said, rolling his eyes, and Stan took a second to think about that. “Anyway, how are you guys doing? Anything happen since Tuesday?”

“Ah, not much,” Butters replied. “I guess after talkin’ to the police, everything just pretty much went back to normal, huh.”

“Yeah,” Kyle said, sighing. “Like I don’t know what I expected, but it was definitely more of a big deal in my head.”

“It’s still a big deal,” Stan said. “Who cares what the police think?”

“Nobody, apparently,” Kyle said. “Anyway, Craig and Tweek are still here, so I guess their parents didn’t care either.”

“You went back to Kyle’s with him after, right?” Kenny asked, looking at Stan, and he nodded. “Yeah, I heard Tweek did the same for Craig, and it kind of eased everything out.”

“That easily?”

“Let’s ask,” Kenny said with a sly grin, and peered around to look at where Craig was sat on the sofa, still deep in the game. “Hey, Craig. Did you sort out your beef with your parents?”

“I don’t have beef with my parents,” Craig replied, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“But you’re still together with Tweek, so I assume you did.”

“Who said we’re together?” Craig asked, and Stan didn’t miss the way Tweek’s eyes flickered away from the screen to Craig, eyebrows only slightly turned down. Apparently Craig didn’t miss it either, ducking his head slightly. “Okay, whatever. You’re right. Happy now? Leave me alone, I’m winning.”

“A charmer as always,” Kenny said, repositioning himself back to face their group with an air of success. Kyle still looked confused.

“Wait, they’re actually _together_? Like…dating?” he asked, and Kenny just patted him lightly on the shoulder. Stan wondered how their proximity on the sofa wasn’t a dead giveaway, though he guessed he and Kyle did usually sit that close together. Not that- that meant anything.

“From what I heard, they were so freaked out after he went missing they put all the other shit aside,” Kenny continued. “So when they saw Tweek essentially bringing their son back to them, totally alive and well, they kind of warmed up to him a lot.”

“Aw, that’s awful nice for them,” Butters said, beaming. “I never would’ve thought it, but I guess they’re pretty sweet!”

“Are you guys still talking about me?” Craig’s voice cut in again, and Kenny just waved a hand over his shoulder. “You know, the only reason I’m not as bothered by the rumours anymore is because I know you guys have way more now.”

“Rumours about what?” Kyle asked, though Craig had already returned to the game. “I thought the stuff about running away was already starting to die down.”

“No, there’s other stuff-“ Kenny started, though Stan managed to cut him off with a tight glare. Not that it stopped his grin, the asshole.

“I think it’s real nice that everyone ended up happy in the end,” Butters said, and Stan exchanged a look with Kyle. ‘Happy’ was probably too strong a word considering the masses of problems they were likely to encounter in the coming months, but…maybe Stan could agree that eventually he’d get to the point of everything being okay. His mom had already helped him book a first therapy session.

“Well, I mean…I’m glad things are getting better,” Kyle said, and Kenny and Butters both gave him a warm look. It made Stan feel good too, somehow.

“And you can finally properly play games now your sling is off,” Kenny said, grinning towards Stan. “When these guys finish, we should have a match.”

“I bet I can still beat you,” Stan said, and Kyle laughed whilst Butters just looked mildly panicked.

“Oh, I dunno-“

“You’ll be fine.” Kenny patted him on the back, before leaning towards the others and calling out, “Us next.”

“Whatever,” Craig muttered, eyes still on the screen though he’d already lost.

“Winner can have the pretzels,” Kenny said, moving back to them and eyeing the packet at his side.

“That’s too much power,” Kyle muttered, and Stan couldn’t help but agree, especially if Cartman was actually going to devour the entire kitchen. Even that pizza in the oven wasn’t safe.

Still, it was nice just being sat on the floor with his friends, talking like nothing had ever been wrong. This was the kind of thing he liked. Not drinking, or crowded rooms, or arguing. Just relaxing.

And the music wasn’t even that bad.

-

It was somewhere around three in the morning when Stan finally decided to pull himself off the floor, back stiff from being hunched up behind the couch with Kyle for the past ninety minutes. Most of the others had already split up into separate groups after being unable to decide on a single activity, and Stan had taken to watching some weird apparently award-winning film with Kyle on Token’s laptop that he ‘never used’.

“Like, I do think it was _good_ ,” Kyle was saying as he stood up, rolling his shoulders back. “But it definitely didn’t deserve an Oscar.”

“Yeah,” Stan agreed. “I didn’t even get the whole bit in the middle.”

“Which bit?”

“All of it, dude.”

“The entire middle of the movie,” Kyle muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “Wanna see if there’s any snacks left?”

“I doubt it,” Stan said, then glanced over to the TV, which was also in the middle of a film. It looked like some coming of age film, and Stan was suddenly infinitely grateful for the not-Oscar-worthy film they’d picked.

“I don’t get why she’d _not_ tell him,” Clyde muttered. “Like they had this whole pact of honesty!”

“Shh,” Bebe hissed, frowning at the TV.

“She’s not telling him because she’s a bitch,” Cartman’s voice broke through the darkness, and Kyle turned to where he was hogging a whole sofa, raising an eyebrow.

“Why the hell are _you_ watching this?”

“Uh, fuck you guys, this is a good film!” he quipped back. “What, finish your make out session already?”

“You guys, ngh, I can’t hear it,” Tweek said, pulling a face from his place next to Craig. It was weird, because they were like kind of cuddling, to the point they actually looked like a couple. Stan looked away to stop himself from staring and thinking too much.

“Maybe some stuff got spared,” he said, turning towards the kitchen and feeling Kyle follow after him. It actually wasn’t in as much disarray as Stan would’ve thought, but it really didn’t look like there was anything left. There was some soft music playing somewhere, though Stan couldn’t place where exactly.

“I bet Token’s got a stash hidden away somewhere,” Kyle said, eyeing up the cupboards. “I bet he saves them all for the other guys.”

“Snack favouritism,” Stan said, picking up an empty bag of salsa chips. He was surprised Cartman hadn’t just gone all out and eaten the packet too.

“I didn’t really care that much anyway,” Kyle said, leaning up to grab a cup from the shelf. “At least there’s juice left.”

“There’s always juice left,” Stan said, rolling his eyes. “Even those parties where everyone’s drinking and nobody bothered to bring any, there’s a half empty bottle of juice in the morning.”

Kyle didn’t look up from pouring his drink. “You wanted alcohol?”

“No,” Stan said quickly. “It’s- I’m glad I didn’t drink tonight.”

“I’m glad too.” He tightened the lid back on. “It’s more fun like this.”

“Yeah, dude, totally.” Stan leaned back against the counter as Kyle turned around, not taking his eyes off him even as he took a sip of the drink. “I guess this party is kind of like an early birthday party for you.”

“I guess.” Kyle looked thoughtful. “But I don’t know if I’d wanna do this for my birthday. I’d rather just chill with you.”

“That’s the best, right?”

“That’s the best,” Kyle confirmed, and Stan could tell his smile was only half-teasing. “You wanna go see where the others are?”

“I dunno, maybe,” Stan said, trying not to make it obvious that he’d rather just stay with Kyle all night. He didn’t make any movement to leave the room, and neither did Kyle, just staring distantly down at his drink. “Where’s that music coming from?”

“Probably the Alexa.”

Stan turned around, rolling his eyes. He leaned forwards to turn down the volume, making it fade more into the background. “Dude, rich people are crazy.”

“I wonder if he’s ever gotten lost in this house,” Kyle said, glancing around each corner of the overly expansive room.

“I bet he did as a kid,” Stan said. “Like, one day he’ll mention it and just be like ‘what, you guys didn’t used to have maps for your houses when you were young’?”

Kyle snorted. “I bet.”

The music kept playing gently around them, and Stan leaned back against the table, watching as Kyle moved his attention back to the empty packets on the side, looking only slightly irritated at the mess. It struck him suddenly that they were kind of alone right now, with everyone else scattered around the house. Like, it was just them here right now, in the weird safety of the kitchen. Stan put his hands into his pockets.

“I think I’m kind of in love with you,” he said, and Kyle’s eyes snapped over to him.

“Uh-“ he started, then he let out a slight laugh, giving him a weird look. “What?”

Stan blinked, and then realised he didn’t have any plan past that. Kyle was still staring at him, bemused smile starting to melt away.

“No…pressure or anything though,” Stan continued, fidgeting his hands inside his pockets. “It’s probably gonna pass. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Are you being serious?” Kyle asked, nervous grin fully gone now.

“Um. Yeah.”

A couple of seconds of silence passed again, only the instrumental break of the music filling the room. Then Kyle frowned and tilted his head slightly. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Kyle was quiet, then turned his head even more.. “… _Really_ -?”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” Stan hurried to say, only now feeling the nerves and embarrassment hit him. Kyle shook his head, staring at him as if he was some kind of math question that he was struggling to figure out.

“No, I just mean- why?”

“…Why?” Stan repeated, feeling dumb.

“Why would you…” Kyle paused, seeming to hesitate on his words. “ _Like_ me?”

“Um, I mean. You’re my best friend.”

“Lots…lots of people are best friends,” Kyle said quietly, face reddening slightly.

“But it’s different with you,” Stan said, wishing he could think of something proper and romantic to say. But it was true. Nobody else even came close to Kyle, in any regard, and he really couldn’t imagine them doing.

“You…” Kyle glanced away, apparently flustered at the answer. Stan really hoped this wasn’t ruining things.

“I just thought I should tell you,” he said, feeling like he was trying to justify it more to himself than to Kyle, who had maybe already stopped listening by this point. “Because, I dunno. I feel bad not saying it. Like I’m not being honest. Like I said, it’s not like I expect you to like…feel the same.”

“No, I-“ Kyle shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m processing it.” He stilled, expression suddenly wary. “You sure you’re not kidding? It’s not a joke, is it?”

“No! Ask Wendy if you want proof.”

“Wendy?” Kyle repeated, face falling back to confusion again. “Wendy knows?”

“She forced it out of me.”

“She- oh, of course she does.” Kyle pressed a hand to his face, almost laughing. “I should’ve realised. God. She was totally hinting when I spoke to her, just- God. I can’t believe it.”

“Of course she was,” Stan muttered, despite the uncertainty continuing to grow in his chest. Of course Wendy hadn’t actually _said_ anything, but he should’ve known she was going to lead it that way regardless.

“So,” Kyle started again after a few seconds of only the music playing. “Uh.”

“I don’t want- anything to change,” Stan continued, aware that the air between them was growing uncomfortably tense. If he fucked things up after only a week of them being normal again, he was never going to forgive himself. “I don’t wanna make anything weird. You can forget about it now if you want. It’s fine.”

“No, dude, I can’t just forget about it,” Kyle said, frowning. “Like- I mean- since when, anyway?”

“A while.” Stan shrugged as naturally as he could manage. “I tried telling you before.”

“What?” Kyle actually looked alarmed at this, still red in the face. “When?”

“Um, a few times. I texted you. And I tried to say it. I dunno, probably since we were fifteen? I wasn’t really sure for the most part though.”

“Fifteen- since you were _fifteen_?” Kyle stared at him in horror. “And you’re only _just_ telling me now?”

“I tried, dude!”

“When? I don’t remember anything like that!”

“Saying like- I dunno. That I was scared nobody was ever gonna love me? I told you that a lot.”

“I didn’t think that was referring to _me_ ,” Kyle said, looking taken aback.

“Yeah, I- probably should’ve been more obvious,” Stan said, pulling a face. “Especially with you. No offense, dude, you’re not good at picking up on these things.”

It was meant to be a light jab to try and ease the mood, but Kyle just continued to look dazed, as if stuck in place. He was still holding the cup from before, and he stared down at it as if he’d forgotten he ever had it in the first place. Stan suddenly felt sick, scared he really had ruined everything with a couple of dumb words.

“Anyway- it- it doesn’t matter, okay?” he tried. “Just- be flattered about it, I dunno. Forget. It’ll just be a dumb thing like five years from now. It’ll go eventually, dude, it’s fine.”

“I don’t know,” Kyle said slowly, then finally glanced back at up to look at him. His face flushed again as he stared, and something about it made Stan nervous. “I just never…thought about it before.”

“Never? Really?” That wasn’t promising, honestly.

“Well, obviously a _bit_ , but not like- I mean, I never really thought it was a thing that could actually happen.”

“It could,” Stan said before he could stop himself, then pressed his lips together when Kyle blinked at him. “Or, like I said. You can just forget.”

“Can I kiss you just to see?” Kyle asked suddenly, and Stan almost spluttered. “Like-! Just to see, what it’s like, and if it’s…”

“You- want to?” Stan asked, waiting for his heartrate to reach the point it forced him out of whatever dream he seemed to have stumbled into. He pushed himself away from the table, but still felt stuck to the floor.

“I mean, it’s only fair, right?” Kyle asked, not meeting his eyes. “Since it’s- been so long.”

“You don’t have to,” Stan said, managing to take a step forwards.

“No, I-!“ Kyle swallowed. “It’s fine. If it’s fine with you.”

“Uh-“ A very small part of Stan almost wanted to say no, just in the fear that they would and Kyle would realise he couldn’t reciprocate, but the other complete majority of him really didn’t give a shit considering he’d already made peace with guaranteed heartbreak. Or, apparently, non-guaranteed now. “Okay.”

If that first hug back with Kyle had been like becoming whole again, kissing him was finding a part he didn’t even know he was missing. It was almost scary how different it felt from all the other kisses he’d had. Like, it was actually _right._ Maybe soulmates really existed. Fuck, maybe soulmates really did exist and Kyle was his-

Stan’s right hand was still on Kyle’s cheek when he moved back, and he stilled, remembering that reality was a thing and time was still moving forwards. For a few long seconds, he just stared with wide eyes whilst Kyle stared back, unmoving. Slowly, as if to remind them both they still existed, Stan took his hand away. It felt empty, somehow.

“…It was nice,” Kyle said eventually, and Stan blinked. “Uh. Like. Yeah. Not bad.”

“Mm.”

“Better than any of the girls,” Kyle said then, and Stan couldn’t stop the laughter rising up in his throat, only half-nervous.

“Yeah,” he said. “Better than Wendy. But don’t tell her that.”

“I’m definitely going to tell her that.”

“Dude.”

“Let’s go find the others,” Kyle said then, turning around briskly, and Stan had to take a moment just to regather his thoughts and remember where he was and what they were doing. Part of him was kind of convinced none of that had actually happened, and he’d just zoned out super hard whilst they’d been trying to find a film several hours ago. It hadn’t, right? No way.

Everything still felt hazy as they walked upstairs, and Stan kind of wanted to just tug on Kyle’s hand like ‘hey dude didn’t we just kiss should we talk about that??’, but felt too out of it to even form a coherent sentence featuring the word ‘kiss’. Maybe he just needed time to think? Fuck, Stan hoped so. If he got that and then they just acted like it never happened he was actually going to go insane.

The sound of other voices brought him out of his trance, and Stan snapped fully back to attention when Kyle pushed open the ajar door to Token’s room. The others were sat around in varying states of alertness, with a few of them looking near asleep, though they sat up as the two of them entered.

“Oh, hey,” Wendy greeted first, looking up from the laptop balanced between Nichole and her. “Are the others still awake?”

“Yeah, they’re watching a movie still,” Kyle said. Wendy’s eyes moved to Stan, and although she didn’t say anything, the quirk of her lips was enough to tell him that his red face was still obvious, which only made it burn more. Jesus, he was gonna puke.

“I hope everyone’s been sticking to the party rules,” Kenny said, led sprawled out on his back with his eyes closed. “I haven’t died yet, so.”

“Yeah right, Clyde was about to burst into tears five seconds before we left,” Kyle said, shaking his head.

“Where’d you guys go?” Wendy asked.

“Nothing happened,” Stan said before he could stop himself, the burn in his face coming back full force when he noticed everyone turn to look at him. Okay, fuck. He shouldn’t have said that. Now Wendy was smirking even more, and Kenny was grinning at him, and even Nichole was smiling knowingly. Fuck. Fuck. “Uh- you guys wanna play a board game-?”

“Oh, isn’t it too late for that?” Butters asked, looking up from his phone, and Stan had never been so grateful for Butters’ naïve idiocy.

“We could play something short,” Nichole suggested, still smiling. “Token has a few from a couple years back. Right, Token?”

“Mmm.” Token didn’t look up, lying on his side in his bed. Stan had kind of assumed he was already asleep. “Go for it.”

“I’m up for that,” Wendy said, placing the laptop to one side.

“Me too,” Kenny said without moving.

“Oh, I’ll join too, but uh, I might fall asleep…” Butters said, blinking his eyes hard.

“We can just go grab Clyde if that happens,” Wendy said lightly. “If he hasn’t cried himself to sleep.”

“Or Bebe hasn’t killed him,” Nichole said, laughing. “Remember when she broke up with him because he cancelled their date to recover from that sad dog film?”

The two of them laughed, and Stan distantly wondered if Kyle would break up with him if he wanted to cancel a date because of a sad dog film, which was definitely a thing he could see himself doing. Well, not that- they were even at a place to break up.

Stan glanced at Kyle only to find him looking back, and he quickly turned away. If he was lucky, one game would be enough time to let him make up his mind.

-

At 6am, the sun had started to rise, and Stan honestly had no idea how he was still awake. They’d played board games until four, when both Butters and Nichole had fallen asleep and everyone else had stopped trying to pay attention. He wasn’t sure if everybody was actually asleep, but the house was in complete silence now. Stan had assumed he would’ve passed out an hour ago, but somehow he was still here, watching the sunrise out of the window of the guest room.

They hadn’t talked yet, but Stan had grown too tired to care. It all felt like a distant dream by this point, and he was fine just holding onto the memory. Right now it was just like everything was winding down, like he was at the end of a really long day. Well, technically he was, considering he’d woken up at seven for school, but- even longer than that. Months long.

“Dude?” Kyle’s soft voice called from behind him, and Stan turned around to see him sat up on the blow-up mattress, a slight squeak as he swerved to the side and stood up. It didn’t seem to wake anyone up, and Stan got the impression they were pretty passed out. “Why are you still awake?”

“I dunno,” Stan said, watching as Kyle sat down next to him. “Tonight was fun though.”

“Yeah.”

“…What’s gonna happen now?” Stan couldn’t help but ask, the sleepiness lowering his filter.

“About what?”

“I dunno. Us?”

Kyle looked out the window. “…What do you want to happen?”

“I guess for things to stay the same.”

“We can do that if you want.”

“But I wanna kiss you again,” Stan confessed, frowning. “I feel like I’m gonna keep wanting to kiss you now.”

“That’s kind of romantic,” Kyle said, laughing quietly. The light from the still-low sun outside wasn’t much, but it was enough to see the glow on his cheeks. “We can figure it out the same way we do everything.”

“Hm?”

“Together, idiot.” Kyle lightly elbowed him, and Stan gave a delayed grin, feeling like he was already asleep.

“Everything changed,” he said, closing his eyes.

“Is that bad?”

“Not anymore,” Stan said, then yawned. “Dude, I’m too tired to have meaningful talks right now.”

“This is the best time to have them.”

“No way. It’s like I’m drunk.”

“Is that what it feels like for you?”

“A little bit,” Stan said, staring at the orange hue of the sun that was only a little bit fuzzy. “Not really.”

“Let’s sleep,” Kyle said, and when he put his hand on Stan’s, he assumed he was just going to pull him over to the bed, but instead it stayed there, resting. Just like back on the train, when they’d existed outside of everything else. It was the same feeling now. “Figure things out tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved, and Stan let himself sit there and watch the sun fully rise until it got too bright and they had to shut the curtains. Kyle’s hand stayed on his, and Stan was fleetingly grateful that there was no sling there to block it.

Maybe it had been over a week since they’d found Kyle, but only now did it feel like the search was finally over. Everything was different, but it was also kind of the same. And it was good like that. It was all- good. Or getting there, at least.

Stan stared at Kyle next to him, and somehow got the feeling that they weren’t going to get lost again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there it is!!!!!! the ending!!!!!  
> somehow we ended on friday the 13th lol, weird coincidence  
> honestly i'm not sure if it's a good enough ending but i had fun writing it anyway ;u;;;;  
> it was my first time writing something like this, and it's been a big learning experience! some things were a struggle and maybe didn't come out as nice as i wanted, but overall i'm happy with this ^^  
> i just want to say thank you so much for all your support throughout this fic!!! writing and posting this fic has really helped me through these difficult and lonely covid times, so i'm so grateful for all your lovely feedback ;w;;;;  
> so for everyone who stuck it out until the end of the fic, thank you so much!!!!! <333333  
> ps: the title is a reference to a song i love a lot that i made a short animatic to!! if you were curious, you can see it [here](https://hypercatt.tumblr.com/post/624708011588534272/i-made-v-short-simple-animatic-based-off-my-fic)


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